Book 5 - Beth
by Veronice
Summary: Harry and Luna's daughter Beth was a very special child, but special children often have a difficult life. Beth was a Telepath.
1. Chapter 1

_Magical World and most characters belong to J. . My books diverge from Canon from the end of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix._

_Note__: This books will make more sense if you've read BOOK 4: Kidnap. _

_Summary__: Beth was a very special child, but special children often have a difficult life. _

_Chapter 1: _

A four-year-old child sat up in bed, laughing and chortling to herself, although it was quite late for a small child to be awake. She was round and plump, had a blunt, plain face, and wispy blonde hair. There was that wonderful feeling in the atmosphere again. Nearly always she kept herself awake for this time, she liked to feel that feeling before settling herself down for the night.

Three rooms away, Harry and Luna were making love, and little Beth shared their love, and their joy in each other, although the sexuality was outside her comprehension. Sometimes, it didn't happen and then she was disappointed. But there were bonus times, too, often in the early mornings, and sometimes in the day.

There was a walled garden on the estate. It looked like it had been there for a hundred years, although it was actually quite new. One of Harry's excess security guards had turned himself into the head gardener, and had learned the spells that made for the deepest softest grass, and that helped grow the most beautiful, but lightly scented roses. The day Harry had first returned home with his second wife, Kevin started work on this walled, lockable garden, and situated it a sufficient distance from the house that it was seldom visited.

Kevin had seen Harry and Ginny a few times as they emerged from a certain thick grove of trees, glowing with contentment. The trees were still there, but that had been Ginny's place, and Kevin thought Harry should have another place for Luna. He had never told Harry what he had in mind when he planned the garden, but felt himself well rewarded when he noticed Harry and Luna quietly slipping through the gate one day.

Kevin was good at seeing and not being seen, but not even Kevin noticed another little observer. Beth would often be found just on the other side of the high wall at these times, seldom hearing anything, but that glorious feeling would fill her being. Beth was a happy and easygoing child - people were in the habit of thinking of her as a good and obedient child, and no-one noticed how much she went her own way. She found it easy to slip away from John's muggle wife, whose job it was to keep an eye on her.

Beth was a very rare person, a true natural Telepath, but neither Harry nor Luna comprehended the full access she had to their minds and to their feelings. They each had some telepathic talent themselves, that had been enhanced with the closeness between them. But the difference between their telepathic abilities, and that of a Telepath, was enormous. For Beth, it would always take an effort _not_ to feel the thoughts and feelings of those around her. For Luna and for Harry, it would always be an act of will to access those thoughts and feelings, except for odd times when there was a particularly strong surface thought that might come through. It was different, of course, between each other, but with other people, Luna never tried, and Harry only ever did it when there was a special need.

They never knew that Beth shared their happiness when they made love, and Beth had known for what seemed all her life, that they wanted solitude at these times, and was never seen if she came close. But her parents' happiness in each other was a major reason that she knew happiness within herself. A Telepath has a difficult life, and even those with just the tendency can strike problems. Luna had been shunned at school, although she had chosen not to allow herself to be made miserable by her solitude. Harry had never been shunned, but his ability had been more hidden.

It was summer, and Harry's son, James, had just left Hogwarts, with excellent marks, in spite of a reputation for fighting. James was thin and wiry. He looked a lot like his father, but his last few years at Hogwarts had been difficult, for Harry Potter was not only very well known, but a convicted criminal. His sentence of three years in Azkaban had been suspended, but he was still on Probation.

James felt the disgrace bitterly, and had scarcely said an unnecessary word to Harry since it happened. At the same time, the fights he so often fought were in defence of his father, and he was terrified that Harry would re-offend, and would either be imprisoned or leave England forever. James had become a silent and morose young man, but he was also a brilliant scholar. He would be going on to further study, and hoped eventually to do research in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries, as his step-brother, Adam Bourne, was doing.

Harry had another two daughters, redheaded twins, Victoria and Margaret, and Margaret had two daughters and a son. He regarded his stepson, Adam, as his own son, also. Harry Potter now had quite a large family.

He was a very powerful wizard - his powers were unique in his world. Alone among wizards, he could work strong, deliberate magic, without the use of a wand. And with or without a wand, he had more sheer power than anyone else alive. All Harry's children were talented, but with the exception of Beth, they were normally talented.

But Beth was different. Perhaps because of her telepathic knowing of her father, Beth could also work magic without a wand, although she would never develop the power of her father. Neither Harry nor Luna knew yet what she could do. Beth, in her contented soul, found few needs that demanded magical intervention, and they had never seen her do any magic at all, let alone that very special brand that was her father's secret.

Harry and Luna, with little Beth, had been home for a month now, after three months abroad. Harry found it wise to spend much of his time abroad. Any transgression could have his sentence immediately put into effect, and there were many people who would like to see him provoked into an act that would accomplish that.

In spite of his great power, Harry Potter's specialty was perfectly benign. He took some pleasure in breaking 'unbreakable' spells that afflicted witches and wizards. Whenever he was home, closely watched by Ministry 'Observers,' he would do sessions of spell-breaking for as long as it took to clear the backlog.

He refused to feel an obligation to his patients, however. He had never chosen to be a mediwizard, and often, he felt, his patients brought the spells on themselves, usually as a result of duelling. So when he chose to travel, he never changed his mind merely because there was a constant supply of new witches and wizards, mostly irresponsible young wizards, getting themselves spell-bound.

**x**

Wednesday afternoon in July, Harry Potter joined Healer Hermione Granger in her office for a spell-breaking session. A Ministry Observer, who was supposed to double as a body guard, was also present. Harry hadn't seen Anna since his trial nearly five years before, and a shiver had gone through him when she had turned up, rostered as his Observer. It was not that he disliked her, it was just that the day of his trial had been traumatic, and for a moment, she brought back the memory of an all but intolerable humiliation. He told himself not to be silly, and greeted her with courtesy.

Anna, too, would have preferred to avoid this duty. Harry had stood proud and calm that day, refusing to hang his head as film of beatings, torture and rape were shown, himself as the helpless victim, as well as his subsequent ruthless execution of the perpetrators. But she had been close, part of his escort of aurors, and she remembered how he had started to shake when there had been an unexpected blast of sound that he had been conditioned to connect with torture, and how that shaking had continued on and on, as he remained coldly expressionless, pretending to be totally unmoved. Anna found it difficult to relate to Harry Potter as if he were just another person, and was uncomfortable when he greeted her.

She did her job, as she had been briefed. Making an occasional note, as the 'Observer,' being alert for danger, as his bodyguard, and efficiently and quickly steering out grateful clients, in order, Kingsley had told her, that Harry wouldn't make trouble about having an auror with him as he worked. Harry still thought of them as Ministry spies, although he knew they were mostly decent men and women just doing their job. But he seldom thought much about it any more, he had had to put up with the Observers for over twenty years now whenever he did this work.

This was a normal day to begin with, the patients were mostly young wizards with disfiguring and painful skin conditions, some with horns or antlers or furry faces. Harry Potter would wave his wand, mutter an incantation, and they would leave, freed of their problems. There was an occasional woman, but women seemed to have more sense, and seldom got themselves into the predicament.

But this day, a little girl of about seven, was led into the room. Harry could tell it was a girl, because she wore girls' clothing. Her mother held her hand. Harry looked at her, trying to stay unmoved. The girl's face was that of a bat. In the size of a human, a bat's face was horridly, incredibly ugly. He greeted her. "Hello Karen," remembering her name from the brief rundown that Hermione always gave before a patient was brought in, although he seldom bothered paying much attention.

Karen's mother said, "She can't talk." And as her mouth parts were that of a bat, Harry was not surprised.

"I'm going to try and cure you," he said gently, "All you have to do is trust me and stay still."

He waved his wand, although he already felt that this was not going to be an easy spell to break. When nothing happened, he held his wand raised and still, and a gentle tingling filled the air for a few minutes. Still nothing happened, the girl just staring at him with her great bat eyes.

Hermione wasn't surprised when he spoke again, gently, to the girl, as if she understood exactly what was happening, although most who saw her automatically treated her as if she was an imbecile. He asked her courteously to wait until he finished the other patients, and he could then give her all his attention. Her mother led her back into the waiting room.

Harry was abstracted as he automatically waved his wand at the further eight patients that filled his schedule, sometimes even forgetting to mutter the words. He usually did the incantation, as people seemed to feel better if there was some sort of ceremony when he broke the spells. He often thought that they'd be even happier if he performed a real song and dance about the simple process, but he didn't think he owed them that much.

The day's list was finished except for the bat-girl, and Harry sat, staring into the distance, frowning.

Hermione prompted him, "The bat-girl?"

"In a minute," Harry said. "I have a feeling she's not going to be easy," and then he looked up, "Have you got anything to eat?"

Without comment, Hermione went to her desk and pulled out an unopened packet of sweet biscuits. Harry opened the packet, and politely handed them around. Hermione took one, to keep him company. She knew he was self-conscious about his need for food when he had put all his effort into breaking a spell. It looked like this time, he had decided he needed to stock up first.

Harry ate a couple of biscuits, looking into the distance. He wondered how anyone could have done that thing to an innocent child. She had been afflicted for the past six months.

He finally rose, stretched, and nodded to Hermione. Harry carefully explained to the mother and to the child that there would be a scary feeling in the air as he worked at breaking the spell. He wanted the woman to stay, but warned her in detail what she would experience. If she suddenly fled, or if the child fled, the sudden interruption could hurt him.

He looked at Anna, too. "What about you? Will you be all right?" Anna raised her nose and said haughtily, "I'm an auror, of course I won't get frightened!" and Harry grinned at her.

The mother braced herself, holding the hand of her daughter. Her daughter stayed calm, relaxed, staring at Harry with total trust. Harry raised his wand. Beginning with the tiniest tingling, the feeling of magic built up and up.

As Harry had suspected from the start, this was a difficult spell. He was giving all he easily could, but still he felt as far away from breaking the spell as he had done at the start. Sometimes, in the past, he had pushed himself until he collapsed in a faint, but those were the times when he could feel that the spell was on the point of breaking, and he would push just a little harder and a little harder, and sometimes the spell would finally break, but leaving him collapsed on the floor, and sometimes the spell would not break, and he had another name to add to his list of failures.

The sustained thrumming of strong magic in the air almost, but not quite, hurt those in the room. The girl's mother had to use all her courage not to bolt, although Anna was wearing a mask of calm, modelled, if he had known, on his own. Karen just looked at him, great eyes staring, trusting. But he was still no closer to the breaking of the spell, and he did not, this day, push himself to collapse.

The magic in the air quietly died down. Harry was pale and sat back in his chair. The girl's mother bowed her head. The greatest wizard in the world had failed her daughter. There was no-one else to try, no-where else to go.

Karen slipped her hand from the hand of her mother, and went to the greatest wizard in the world, who slumped in his chair, looking very ordinary, white and exhausted, his eyes closed. She took his hands, and thought to him, _Don't worry, you did your best_.

Harry squeezed her hands, and thought back. _Is this how you always talk?_

She answered, _Since it happened, but you're the first person ever who's spoken back like this, _and he felt her shame and knew that her voice had become squeaks and squeals in a hundred variations that bats might know as language, but humans did not.

But he'd also been reminded that telepathy was not a common skill, and he had a Ministry Observer in the room with him. His next comment was verbal. "Do you want to try again, in a different way? Maybe in a couple of days?"

She looked at him with her great eyes, and solemnly nodded.

Hermione took them out with her to the waiting room, and arranged an appointment for two days time. The receptionist suggested the following day instead, but Hermione knew that Harry had exhausted himself. Although a fit and vigorous man, he still took a while to recover from the sort of effort he had made that day, and when she went back into the room, she found him still in his chair, head back on the high headrest, eyes closed.

She thanked Anna, so that the auror had no excuse to linger, then pulled out her monitor, and had her readings before Harry roused himself enough to object. It was sneaky, but she now knew something she hadn't before. Not just that Harry was very, very tired, but that the LV reading, loosely translated as 'life vigour,' or maybe 'essential life force,' really was distinctly abnormal. Hermione had modified her monitor, the former possible top reading had been 115. As normal was between 98 and 102, with an occasional rare person reaching maybe 105, this was quite sufficient.

But now she finally knew that Harry's true reading, assuming that it wasn't lowered because of the recent energy expenditure, was 127, far higher than for a normal person. But Harry wasn't easy to fool. When she looked up, she saw him regarding her, a quizzical look on his face. Guiltily, she quickly put away her monitor, and told him that he was not to apparate. She did not discuss that other finding with him, which was good, as Anna was innocently sitting in the waiting room as if waiting to escort Harry away, while a little voice in her ear from her listening device told her everything that was said in the room.

Harry's best friend for very many years, and Hermione's husband, Ron Weasley, took Harry home that night, as two hours later, Hermione still said that he was not to apparate. Harry's home was hidden, even from the Ministry. Only close friends and family knew how to get there.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had a very good idea where it was, but he had never told anyone else. Kingsley was the head of the Auror Department, and had been talking of retirement for years. He was a very large and very black man, with startling white hair. He liked to accuse Harry of being the cause of that white, as under the former Minister, he had been responsible for looking after Harry.

But now Harry was a convicted criminal, under Probation, and while the new Minister for Magic, John Daunt, liked to have Harry watched, Kingsley suspected that he only wanted to discover Harry in some transgression as an excuse to put into effect his prison sentence and have him locked away. Daunt didn't like having a wizard about that was too powerful to be easily managed.

Harry visited Hermione Thursday evening, wanting to discuss the little bat-girl with her, away from any Ministry Observers. He was going to use a new skill, and he preferred that the Ministry not know about any of his abilities that they didn't have to. They still didn't know that he could turn into a hawk, he thought that they still didn't know that he could perfectly easily apparate to the other side of the world, when the limit was supposed to be a few hundred miles - but they had known since the trial that he could hold a wizard frozen, tell him what to do and to think, vanish large items without a wand, and kill with a thought.

Hermione and Ron were looking quite middle-aged these days, Ron was greying and no longer as strong as he had been in his younger days, and Hermione was rounded and grey-haired. But Harry had known them a very long time, he knew the people, and scarcely noticed the surface changes. Harry, himself, looked little different from when he was much younger. He had touches of white in his hair, a sign of trauma from the time when he had been kidnapped, and his cheeks were slightly hollowed, a leftover from a severe illness in his thirties. He was now nearly fifty-five, but his body was as young and vigorous as ever.

The three were easy with each other. They had been close friends since they were just eleven years old. They liked to hear about Harry and Luna's travels and research, and Harry liked to catch up on what was happening at home. Still another five years on Probation. Very good for learning to control his temper, he told Ron with a gleam of humour - he wasn't even game to burn the hands of men who patted his bottom these days!

They spoke about each other's children, as parents do. Ben, their son, was planning to become a mediwizard, and appeared to be doing sufficiently well so far at school to gain the marks required.

It was not part of their conversation, but Hermione was particularly pleased about this ambition. She was thinking what to do with Harry once she was too old to be his healer, not that he allowed her to even do a routine annual examination these days. But no doubt, the need would come again, and he had a distrust for healers. Maybe her own son, Ben, could inherit him. She was positive now that Harry would be one of those very rare wizards who was not going to age normally. She wondered when she should mention it to him. He was always uneasy when his health was discussed, and she suspected that any hint of talk about his abnormalities would be quickly terminated.

But now he was hinting at another abnormality. With his next attempt to cure Karen, he said, he was going to try a different attack. He didn't really know exactly what he was going to do himself, he said, but he thought that somewhere inside himself, a person knows what he is supposed to be and to look like. If he could find that 'place' or awareness, maybe he could just give it a nudge, and with that reminder, maybe restore the person to what they were supposed to be.

He didn't explain it very well, and Ron just looked confused. Hermione had some idea, but Luna had comprehended easily when he had told her what he planned to attempt, and he realised again what an exceptional communication he had developed with his wife. Hermione gathered that he would be using some form of telepathy, and he frankly asked her not to discuss it in front of the Ministry Observer. He even said that she was not to discuss it when Anna was outside the door, as he suspected that the aurors liked to listen in. The older he became, the less he liked to be seen as something different, even by Ron and Hermione whom he trusted implicitly.

So Friday afternoon, when Hermione finished all her other patients, Karen and her mother appeared once more in her waiting room, and jumped as Harry silently appeared in another corner. He had thought that he'd best not apparate directly into her office as usual, as she might not be finished with other customers.

Anna already waited with them, but to Harry's surprise, Kingsley suddenly appeared also. Kingsley strolled easily over to Harry, greeting him.

Harry liked Kingsley, but Kingsley was too knowing. He didn't think he wanted Kingsley watching what he was about to attempt. There didn't seem to be much choice, however, so he settled on suggesting that one Observer was enough, and that Anna wasn't needed. He was beaten even on that point, as Kingsley just said that he surely wouldn't deny Anna the experience of watching unusual magic.

Harry said tetchily, that he didn't see why they wanted to watch in the first place, there was really nothing to see.

Everyone was introduced, and then Harry tried to forget about his audience, at the same time concealing just what he was doing from Anna and from Kingsley. He said to the others that he might be silent for a time, but they were not to interrupt, he just needed to concentrate. He sat and organised a chair for Karen just in front of him. He didn't know how long this was going to take.

On his silent prompting, Karen reached out again and took his hands, as she had two days ago, when Harry had discovered that they could communicate with just their thoughts, and he asked her silently if he could look at her mind and could maybe find another way to restore her to normal. Karen could feel that he only wanted to help. She could feel that this was a good man, and she looked at him trustfully and told him, silently with her thoughts, that he was to do what he needed.

Harry looked into her eyes, but after a moment, closed his own as he felt and he searched. She had suffered, this little girl, and again he felt a surge of anger at the person who had done it to her. Harry was a novice at this communication, and had not yet learned to shield his own self from others.

Karen felt that anger, and knew its cause. She felt other pain that he felt and never shared with others, although there were some who thought they knew. And she felt his compassion that is never fully developed until a person has suffered.

It took a long time this first time. After twenty minutes, Anna and Kingsley were looking at each other, wondering what on earth he was doing. After another twenty, Hermione was getting worried. Had he somehow become lost and could not help himself? But suddenly something was happening. A gentle nudge, scarcely magic at all, and the body of little Karen was reminded of how she was supposed to be, and the bat face melted back into the face of a little girl.

Harry sat back in his chair, an enormous smile on his face. He was looking to Hermione for applause, as he had never done before, but this was an achievement! He had done something completely different, and a patient was now cured whom he had not been able to cure before.

Little Karen tentatively put her hands to her face, feeling her now human nose, and mouth, and ears, and she flung herself into his arms, giving him such a hug of joy that he bent his head over hers and his own eyes were wet. Karen's mother was frankly crying, and even the aurors felt the emotion, although Anna, trying hard to be tough, showed nothing.

Harry usually wanted his grateful patients out of the room as quickly as possible, often being thoroughly embarrassed when such a tiny effort from him was thanked with such fervour. But this time was different, his smile was spread all over his face, and neither Anna nor Kingsley made any move to hunt out Mrs. Vilner, who was now giving Harry a bear hug as well. There had been a breakthrough, and Harry was now hoping to go back through his list of failures and try again. Maybe Karen was different, maybe Karen was a one-off, but Harry was full of hope. He always hated to fail his patients, and now he had a new weapon in his armoury.

He raised an eyebrow at Anna, and the Vilners were finally ushered out, but then Anna came back into the room, and said, oddly formal, her congratulations, shaking his hand.

Kingsley had a twinkle in his eye. He had his suspicions about the methods Harry had used, but had also noticed the complete lack of comment from Hermione, and had a shrewd suspicion that Harry wanted to keep some things private. But he, too, thought that there had been a breakthrough in Harry's work, and suggested that they adjourn to Fortescues for an ice-cream.

Harry was well aware that Kingsley did not like to sit out in public and eat an ice-cream, but agreed straightaway. He thought he deserved a very large and very fancy ice-cream, and was pleased when Hermione, Linda, her receptionist, Kingsley and Anna all joined him, each of them with their celebratory ice-cream. Kingsley tried probing for Harry's methods, but Harry only laughed and put him off, saying that he never had been able to explain his own magic.

He had Hermione recall some of his old failures, then, although some had died. It had taken a long time to find a way to help people when pure power had failed. Unfortunately, the method was fraught with problems.

There were no other children on the list, and Harry had asked to try the women next, as he tended to think these were more often innocent victims.

He succeeded with the next two women, much faster than with Karen, but instead of gratitude, they gave him puzzling looks almost of resentment and hurried away. He didn't know quite what was happening, as his telepathic skills were a long way from fully developed. He probably would never have stumbled on this method of undoing spells if little Karen had not tried to develop her own telepathic talents when her human voice had been cut off.

But then there was a young woman, whose reaction gave him a clue to the problem. She became acutely sexually aroused, and Harry, in close contact with her feelings, couldn't help but respond. If he had not already been at the point of success, he might have fled. As it was, he fixed the lady and pulled himself free from her mind, red-faced, and refusing to look at either Hermione or Anna, who was still the rostered Observer.

He left very quickly that day, prising himself free of the woman's reaching hands. She had felt his spirit, she thought, and her body's reaction was to urgently want his physical presence also. She couldn't help it. It was just her body's reaction to the intrusion of another mind, and a mind that had a distinctly male flavour.

That was the last of the women, but he had Hermione revisit the first two and try and find out what they had felt. And now he knew, the intrusion of his mind, and his pushing where he needed to go, was felt almost as a rape. It appeared that his breakthrough was not the miracle it had seemed, although according to Hermione the women appeared to have forgiven him and offered their thanks.

He went back to the little girl, and asked her what she had felt. But Karen thought herself a willing participant, and was simply overjoyed to look human again, to be able to return to school and not be shunned as a monster.

"What do you think?" he asked Hermione. "Is it worth proceeding with, or am I doing more damage than they already had?"

But Hermione had seen that the method did work, and suggested that they try and warn the patients, and that maybe he could even try and get the person to help.

The next patient was a vigorous and powerful wizard in his thirties. Harry carefully explained how the women had felt, but thought maybe the wizard would experience it differently. Once he'd established telepathic communication with the wizard, he told him at each step what he was trying to do. Without little Karen's telepathic talents however, there was not the reciprocal knowing that took the sting out of the process, and suddenly the wizard revolted at the intrusion, and Harry, who had still not learned either the necessity or the method of shielding, was hurled away so energetically, that he was thrown onto the ground, holding his head in pain.

He was still sitting on the floor, holding his sore head, when the wizard took out his wand, and went to curse the man who had tried to help him. But Anna was there and his wand went flying, and even then, the wizard took a step forward, and threw a punch at Harry, who managed to avoid it, but wasn't ready for a fight, trying to dodge, but swaying unsteadily.

Anna finally stunned the furious wizard, and Harry collapsed back into his chair, still holding his head and saying unsteadily, "Easy to see why that one got himself cursed!"

He left it a bit after that. He and Luna were due to go to Paraguay to see the seasonal phenomenon of the Ixicrossing.

***chapter end***


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer__: The Magical World as depicted, and most characters belong to J. ._

_Chapter 2:_

Three months later, Harry was just returned to England, and had little Beth with him, as he sat in Diagon Alley. He'd finally found a companion who enjoyed ice-creams as much as he did. She was a lot messier though.

When Kingsley received word that he was out, he asked who would like to watch out for Harry, and those aurors present who had become friends of Harry, all volunteered. It was quiet, duties were few, and Harry was suddenly joined by Bedwin, Mark, Eli and Zack, and were introduced to Harry's daughter Beth. They were a bit bemused. This plump little person with a chocolate ice-cream smeared face didn't look at all like Harry Potter.

Beth regarded them with mirth in her eyes and looked especially at Eli. She appeared to be giggling at nothing.

Harry was against the wall, surrounded by his friends, laughing and joking. He mentioned where he and Luna had been, but they had to have it explained. They didn't even know what the Ixicrossing was!

Beth had finished her ice-cream, and went to her father, beaming all over her messy face. Harry automatically conjured a wet face washer, forgetting to use his wand, although he tried always to do so when in the presence of others. Beth wandered around the group, still sometimes chuckling to herself, keeping in sight. Where Harry was, there were often other people, peering at him curiously. While he appeared to ignore them, he was always aware of them. One never knew when a threat might appear. But with four aurors around him, he felt totally safe, especially when Jebedee joined them as well.

Beth, on the other hand, had lost her smiles and was solemnly regarding the onlookers. When a wizard took a step toward her, she quickly retreated to the group. Mark was the oldest man there, and he suddenly found his sleeve being tugged. He bent down to the little girl, who said clearly, "That man wants to kill my Dad." She was pointing.

Harry looked up, instantly alert. "Would you mind investigating, Mark," he asked. "If I do anything, I'll likely be in trouble."

But Mark was casual. "I saw nothing,"

"Mark?" said Harry again, his tone suddenly compelling.

So Mark went toward the wizard, who saw him approaching and abruptly disapparated, a fairly obvious sign of guilt. "What did you see, Beth?" asked Mark.

And quickly Harry made a silent command to Beth. She looked at him, and did as he said. "He had his wand out," although she was about to say that she heard him thinking.

Harry and Luna had a serious talk that night. Beth was supposed to go to school the following year. She appeared to have a strong telepathic talent, although it was only in the past few months that they found that they could talk silently to her. They still had no conception of the difference between Beth's natural ability and their comparatively slight talent. And they certainly had no idea that Beth still kept herself awake every night in anticipation of their feelings of joyousness as they made love.

But they were concerned, especially Harry. It was dangerous to be different. They had tried to commit him when he was a young man, for no other reason than that he had more power than others. And Luna knew that it could also be very lonely. With her unusual intelligence, and her telepathic skills, even though undeveloped, Luna had been so alone in her younger years. As she had matured, she had tried very hard to be normal, and, indeed, she managed to look a lot more normal, but the abrupt departure of three husbands, one after another, had made her realise that her difference was a lot more than in her appearance. It was deep within her, and maybe she just couldn't help it.

It was only with the full and loving acceptance of her fourth husband that she had regained the confidence to be as she was, and now her friends found that she had dropped the trappings of surface normality, and frankly showed her unusual nature.

Beth was only four and a half, but they knew that she was perfectly capable of understanding what they said. It seemed hard that she would have to pretend not to hear what people say in their heads, when it was so much a part of her, and they spoke seriously about whether she should be educated at home. Harry's other children had gone to the local muggle day school, without problem. But there was the school run by Harry's daughters and niece, that was also a choice.

In the end, they made no decision, leaving it until the day was a bit closer. They did, however, explain to the little girl that most people could only hear what was said out loud, and that it was a good idea to keep quiet that she was not the same as everyone else. Beth looked at them, heard their words and felt their worry, but just nodded solemnly.

A moment later, though, she was in laughter again and they were not quite sure why. Beth was an oddity.

The following day, Harry took Beth with him when he went to visit Molly Weasley. To Harry, Molly was almost like a mother, and Molly regarded Beth as a grand-daughter. Molly and Beth loved each other. Beth would look at Molly and go into her infectious laughter, making Molly laugh too. They found great pleasure in each other's company.

**x**

On Wednesday, Hermione had something to raise with Harry. The wizard whom he had tried to cure and failed, Stan Pickering, who had raised a wand to him and then tried to hit him, was very apologetic, and wanted him to try again. He promised not to become aggressive, and thanked Harry for insisting that he be allowed free after having been arrested by Anna.

Harry had been more concerned at being thrown so suddenly out of the man's mind, which had so severely hurt his head, than he was at the subsequent threats of violence. But Harry had been practising, with Luna's help. He thought he could block his own mind from being exposed and vulnerable. He was willing to try again. And this man was a powerful wizard. Was it possible that if given guidance, he could do the job himself? So the wizard was contacted, and put at the end of Harry's list for the day.

When Stan arrived, he found that Anna had been joined by Jebedee, and that they wanted him to hand over his wand before Harry tried his intervention.

Pickering was a proud man, but he had suffered his problems for many years now, and Harry had tried twice and failed, once with strong magic, and once when Stan had violently resisted what he had experienced as something like a rape of the mind. He wanted him to try again. But when they were ready to start, he was thoroughly daunted to find that three wands were drawn, just in case.

Harry turned toward his defenders, "Take it easy," he said. "He's an unarmed man - how about you put away the wands?"

Hermione and Jebedee did as he said, but Anna only lowered hers, keeping it in her hand.

When Harry entered Stan's mind, he found him tense, defensive. He didn't know how he could penetrate further and do what he had to do against the resistance that he felt, and that Stan himself was trying to overcome. Harry had erected his own defences as best he could, as this man had really hurt him when he had so abruptly thrown him out that time. He took a long time with this man, the two wizards sitting in their chairs facing each other. Harry had his eyes shut, the better to concentrate. Stan looked into space, as Harry spoke to him in his mind. He was trying to guide him. He knew where he wanted to go now, although, of course, it was not like a geographical place. For so many of the things that Harry was now attempting, there were just no words. But minds do not need words to communicate, and Harry was showing Stan just what was required.

Stan stayed with him, as he was taken, just a little at a time, to that deep place that knew that a body was not supposed to have thorns and spikes. And then Harry stayed quiet, still there, but urging Stan to take his own action. Explaining in his mind, urging him, encouraging him. It was Stan that gave the gentle, slightly magical nudge that had him shedding his thorns and prickles and becoming a man again whom a woman could love without severe injury. That had been a particularly nasty spell!

It had taken nearly an hour, but Stan, with Harry's help, cured himself, and felt no need to throw any punches. He was ecstatic, wanting to take Harry out to drink all evening. Harry was reluctant, it was too easy to get into trouble that way. But Stan had just thought of something he wanted to do a lot more, and was not at all unhappy when Harry declined his invitation.

Harry worked on down his list of failures then. There were eight more men to go. Of them, only two managed to do as Stan had done and free themselves, four did not appear to resent the intrusion, and two resented it so much that he failed to help them.

He tried again with pure magical power with those, as he suspected that he had a little more power than he had several years ago, and one was cured that way, confirming in his mind that he was indeed a little stronger than he had been, or could maybe direct the magic a little better. He called it the telepathic method, and decided that he would only attempt it when pure power failed, even though a full on attempt with straight power always left him exhausted.

**x**

As long as Harry was in England, he continued to do a weekly session of spell-breaking with Hermione. There were no overseas trips. The Ministry of Magic was no longer interested. Maybe it was that a convicted criminal and killer no longer carried any prestige, even if he could still break spells.

Harry continued very careful, feeling himself vulnerable. Anyone else might have the right to defend themselves against insult, but Kingsley had warned Harry, very strongly, that he still had powerful enemies. He must not give them the slightest excuse. He kept his temper when sniggering jeers were made, kept himself right out of the public eye, and even managed not to burn an insolent, exploring hand. It seemed that pornographic video was still about, and he'd three times been warned that there was still that hotel with the 'Harry Potter' room, but that he most definitely should never go there.

He seldom went out in public, but was lured to a small gathering hosted by Euan Abercrombie. They shared a history, Euan and Harry, and for years, had served together on the Wizard High Court, the Wizemgamot. But the last time they had both been present in the court room, Euan had been one of those sitting in judgement, while Harry was the accused killer. Harry found many of those great witches and wizards present - it was a far bigger affair than he had been led to believe. Euan had intended this, so that Harry's friends and former colleagues would have their chance to offer their tacit support and acceptance.

Harry was grateful. While he never for a moment regretted killing Smith-Burton and Griffin, his feeling of himself as a part of respectable wizardry had been important to him. That had all been lost, and although he never showed it, he felt his disgrace bitterly. As a convicted criminal, not only was he expelled from the Wizemgamot, he would never even have the chance to vote again, and he certainly would never teach again. He had loved teaching.

Draco Malfoy asked him to visit one day. Malfoy had defended him at his trial, and it was solely due to Malfoy's defence that he had received the gift of a quite unprecedented suspended sentence. Malfoy was high-priced, and Harry had paid the exorbitant sum demanded of him without a quibble, but he would always feel that he owed Malfoy an enormous debt.

But now Malfoy wanted to warn him again. The Minister for Magic, John Daunt, wanted to see him exiled forever, or preferably locked away. He must not put a toe out of line, or even be suspected of putting a toe out of line. And those words came up again. "There's something I think you should know."

Those words invariably made his heart sink. It was never good news, although it was often these days, at least news that he had heard before. This time it was that the full video of his captivity was circulating, as well as the one when he had killed. There was nothing Harry could do about it.

He still visited close friends and family, but was almost never seen out in public. Mischievous minds had to wait a long time for the chance to blast him with a certain piece of music. It was common knowledge now that Harry Potter had been conditioned to connect torture with Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture.

Harry was unable to resist the temptation of joining Luna for a conference on new and fascinating developments in the field of Transmography. The lectures had claimed their full attention, but they were over now. Most of the participants were still present, some gossiping, some flirting, others comparing opinions and theories.

Harry and Luna were involved in intense discussion with three elderly French intellectuals when a blast of sound hit the room. Harry felt a ghastly jolt in the body, tried to head to the door, but was helplessly sick in front of everyone. Luna had her wand out, and blasted the video player to bits, instantly stopping the music, cleaned the mess, and went to her white and shaking husband.

Harry was no longer being sick. Still white, his head was up, and he was searching the room, his gaze fixing on three young people giggling in the corner. They saw him looking, and their expressions of glee were replaced by terror. He took a stride toward them, but Luna grabbed his arm, and two others of the company took revenge for him. The culprits found their arms and legs helplessly flailing, held under the spell by some very much respected witches. No-one would try and punish the elderly witches for their action. It was only Harry who risked everything by losing his temper.

One of the witches casually asked Harry for how long the punishment should continue. Still white and sweating, he was looking at the trio. He knew them slightly, from his days as a teacher. Their offence was not so much that they had made him make a fool of himself, but that they had nearly provoked a reaction that could have cost him his freedom. He contemplated giving them boils for a few weeks, or something equally untraceable. He was the only one, but he could work magic without showing any sign that he was doing so. In the end, he just told his defenders that it was enough, and went home early.

He should have been hardened to public humiliation by now, but somehow it seemed to hurt as much as ever.

Harry still didn't know who had been in partnership with the man he had killed. He hadn't really been trying to find out. That enemy had taken very effective action against him, but it had been personal with Smith-Burton and Griffin, they were the ones who had raped him in the case of the first, and had attempted it in the case of the second. Those he had killed.

The other mysterious enemy may have destroyed his reputation, but Harry was not a natural killer. That person was not in as much danger from Harry as he thought. The man's father suspected who it was, but took no action. It was his own son and heir. Draco Malfoy just hoped that Harry would never find out.

If Harry had not been so blissfully happy with Luna, it would have been a lot harder for him, but Luna and Harry had a companionship that threw off all external irritations, and a love together that meant everything to them both. Little Beth basked in their warmth. It made no difference to her whether she was at home, or whether they were travelling. As it was a lot more prudent for them to be out of England, they left again, and did not return until it was time for her to go to school.

**x**

Beth was a rare child. She still giggled at nothing, and tended to wander around apparently aimlessly, beaming all over her face. She always seemed to be covered with dirt, or grass, or her latest meal. She loved the horses, and spoke to rabbits, sheep, the birds and even the snakes, although no-one saw her speak to snakes. Her comprehension and intelligence were great, and when the time came for her to be sent to school, her parents took an unusual course. They explained her options, and asked Beth to choose which she'd prefer.

Harry told her that Mary, her sister Margaret's daughter, would be going to the London primary school which catered for witches and wizards, but Beth knew Mary, and didn't like her. She opted for the local muggle school, and that was arranged for her.

The heart of the headmistress sank. Not another Potter daughter. Stories were still told of Meg and Vicki's tempestuous careers, and she herself remembered them very clearly. James had been no trouble.

But when Harry and Luna brought in their daughter for enrolment, she blinked at the beaming child in surprise. This was a far different child from those vibrant redheads. She asked Harry about Meg and Vicki, and felt a surge of vengeful satisfaction when she was told they now ran a small private school, and Meg had three children, and was expecting another baby any day. That would slow her down!

Beth gazed at her and went into gales of laughter. The headmistress wondered if she was retarded!

It didn't take long before the headmistress knew that Beth was not retarded. Her teacher said that her work seemed fine, and never noticed her extraordinary intelligence.

But Beth wasn't doing well at school. Her class-mates avoided her, and she was always alone. She had no friends. Her laughter ceased, and now when she waited for her parents' joy to spread through the house at night, her spirit seized upon it desperately. It was the food of life, and little innocent Beth needed it as she had never needed it before.

Toward the end of her second week at school, when she stepped from the bus, she was not just shunned by her class-mates, several of them took to her, shoving and pinching, and kicking her school bag around the yard. If the teacher on duty saw, she turned a blind eye. Children have to learn to look after themselves... just the natural order of things, they find their place, there's always a pecking order...

Meantime, as Harry was back in the country, he started his spell-breaking sessions with Hermione again. There were no limitations on his lists, as he was fully fit and well these days. It seldom took him long to catch up with the backlog from his trips away.

It was the middle of September when a pumpkin-head was led in. The spell had been put on him only two days before.

"Put him to the end of the session?" asked Hermione. These were very difficult patients. Harry had never yet managed to cure one, but had ended on the floor twice, himself, trying.

But this time he raised a hand, "Just a sec," he said, and concentrated, his mind seeking the mind of the man who lived in the monster. Harry sensed an awareness, but it was like he was asleep, so, crossing his fingers, he swiftly delved deeper, found the trigger point, and the vegetable turned back into a man.

It was a raging man, and before Harry had even fully come back to himself, he was seized and his head crashed against a corner of the desk. The man still held him, with maniacal strength, and was preparing to again bash his head against the desk. Luckily, Anna's reactions were quick, and he was stunned before he could do any more damage to Harry. For the third time when he had tried to help a pumpkin-head, Harry wound up laying motionless on the floor, this time bleeding heavily from a head wound.

The rest of the patients that day had to be postponed, and Harry spent a few days at home, nursing a colossal headache. The former pumpkin-head became calm after a while, and sent a very grateful letter to Harry. He had not been responsible for his actions, and no-one told him that his healer was still concussed. Harry thought that he'd best take a few more precautions the next time.

Most of his patients were as easy as they had always been, of course. While Beth was at school, Harry and Luna had the intention of staying in England to give her the stability they thought a school child should have. Harry continued to be cautious, staying out of the public eye, trying hard to keep out of trouble. Aside from visits to private houses, he stayed at his home, writing a little, and playing with the horses he still loved.

Jimmy Carr rebuked him though. His daughter was winning prizes on her mare, one of the daughters of old Sheba. But when she tried Tambo, who had a great deal of strength, as well as the ability to jump high fences, it was a failure. Tambo had been overjoyed to have a human to play with again, but he was accustomed to Harry, and Harry loved it when they played the game of bucking together. When he played with Catherine Carr, she didn't like it at all. And that special twist that he put into the middle of his highest buck, that had Harry gleeful? Catherine had just fallen off, while he snuffled at her, wondering what was wrong.

Harry had made Tambo quite unrideable for anyone else, and poor Tambo had been left lonely whenever Harry was out of the country. Over the last few years, that had been for long periods at a time. But now he was home, and Tambo and Harry raced again over the moors, and Tambo could again buck and twist, and have his rider only joyful at the play.

As always when he was home, Harry went to see his friend and neighbour, Max. He enjoyed the company of Max, and loved to look at the glossy mares and skittish foals that filled his fields. He was called to admire his new stallion, too.

The old thoroughbred that had been the sire of Tambo was still alive, but long past work. Harry had quietly and magically gelded him for Max, and the horse now spent a peaceful life grazing next to the mares and foals, many of them his own descendants. Max still had two stallions, one was the son of the old horse, the other was unrelated and recently purchased. The new horse was a beautiful black thoroughbred, well known winner of many a race before he was retired to stud.

Harry was caressing the horse, admiring his perfection, although those who looked after the stallion had a profound respect for his teeth and his hooves. But Harry had an exceptional feeling for horses, which he now understood to be connected to his telepathic abilities.

Max, out of the blue, said, "I'm dying of cancer, you know."

Harry's full attention was claimed.

Max wanted to talk, but not with his wife present. They went and sat in the garden, as Max continued. "There's no hope, and it will be quite soon."

Harry was silent, but he was listening, and his friend needed a listener.

"They say three months at the outside."

Max still looked reasonably healthy, but Harry, as soon as he had said, knew that it was true. Max had not long to live. "You've been very sick, Harry, haven't you?"

Harry nodded, "Several times."

"I dread the pain and I dread the helplessness," Max said. "I don't think that I dread the actual death."

Harry answered, "I think I saw it once - death - it was just a line that I had to step over. It was not frightening then... I just never quite stepped over the line..."

Max made a face. "Bedpans and bottles, and if you get weak enough, you mess yourself."

"Wizard hospitals are better," said Harry, "If you wind up messing yourself, they can just use a spell, and you're clean and dry again. But I always wanted a proper shower the moment I was well enough. It was the only way I could feel properly clean."

"You've been that sick?"

Harry nodded, "You know about the last time a few years ago, and there were a few times before then, too. You can't be unconscious for days at a time, and stay clean and sweet!"

"I'd feel as if I could never face anyone if I ever messed myself in bed!"

Harry laughed, "You know I was kidnapped a few years ago?"

Max knew, it had been on TV, but they had never discussed it.

"They kept me unconscious for three weeks, in the same clothes. And that was how I was found. If you can't face people afterward, what are you going to do? You just have to hold your head high and face them anyway. There's no other choice."

"What about the pain?"

"My sicknesses have never been painful, or not very - I can't tell you. But if your medicines are not good enough, I can probably help. You won't have to suffer unbearable pain." He resolved to be even more cautious. He had to stay available for his friend until it was over.

He visited Max often then, being available. He was the only one that Max could talk to about some things, and the fact that Harry had been, more than once, severely and helplessly sick, was a reassurance. It was not that Max expected to recover, as Harry had, rather it was that Harry had never crumpled in shame, even after that kidnap ordeal, which Max still knew little about. Once Harry had been found, there had been only the bare announcement, even though it had been constantly on TV and radio in the few hours before, when he was known to have escaped, but was not yet located. And that had been when they said that he had been severely ill-treated, and was not to be constrained in any way.

Max knew nothing about his subsequent trial or his convictions for unlawful killings. That had been a wizard trial, and Max was a muggle.

**x**

Another Wednesday afternoon, another spell-breaking session. Kingsley arrived with a new auror to introduce to him, Craig Davenport. Harry was beginning to think that there must be a few young aurors that he didn't know now, as he no longer walked the streets of London looking for trouble, and no longer did those overseas trips. There had been a time when Kingsley had tried to keep as many as possible of his aurors unknown to Harry, while Harry had enjoyed pretending that some were unknown to him when they were not at all. It had been a bit of a game, almost, when Kingsley had been trying to keep Harry safe, while Harry was determined to have his fun without interference.

Harry's distrust of the Ministry had been real, and it was rapidly reviving with the repeated warnings he was getting. But he was being so careful! The only time he was out in public was when he did his spell-breaking sessions, and surely that was a public service. He shouldn't get into trouble with that, surely!

And Craig watched as Harry healed three English wizards and over a dozen from overseas with just a casual wave of his wand.

Another English Wizard was brought in, sitting in a wheelchair. Cecil Hausfeldt's arms and legs seemed to be under a spell, so that they could move only very slowly. Hausfeldt tried to say something, or by the look on his face, to shriek something, but he appeared to have no tongue. All the skin that could be seen was covered in reddened pustular lumps. Hausfeldt was in torment, and had been, according to the history, for thirty years. Harry raised his wand, but was suddenly cautious. He didn't want his head bashed against the desk again. And instead of making an immediate attempt to heal the man, he made that slight effort that put him inside the man's head.

The man was shrieking, silently, non-stop, in total lunacy. And there was a feeling of utmost evil.

Harry recoiled. This man could not be allowed free. But he was also in agony, and Harry felt his agony and swayed on his feet with the pure pain.

Hermione was asking him what the matter was, but now Harry had opened his mind to the man, it seemed to be hard to lose that awareness. He stepped back, shaking his head, finally freeing himself. But he still hurt. Hausfeldt was evil and he was mad, but no-one should be left in such agony. Harry, for the time being, put him to sleep.

The man's agony had left him white and shaking. Hermione was asking him again what the matter was.

"In a minute," he said, trying to regain his composure. "In a minute," and he sat a moment with his head lowered, trying to overcome his dizziness, then went and washed his face.

The man's nephew, William Hausfeldt, was still in the room with his charge. Harry started to question him. He wanted to know the history of the man, how he had come to be like that. The young man couldn't tell him. Uncle Cecil had been like that since before he was born, living with his brother, tucked away out of sight with some hired carers. But when the brother had died, William had inherited the charge, knew about the work of Harry Potter, and thought it was worth a try.

Harry looked back at the man, concentrating, feeling the spells that bound him. It seemed to him that there were at least three, and they seemed tightly woven, as if inter-dependant, or maybe put on by more than one wizard. He suspected that they might be very hard to remove. Harry just stood, frowning at the man. He dare not cure an evil lunatic, but he could not leave him in such agony.

Finally, he said, "I've got to see Kingsley - see what he reckons."

He still hadn't explained the problem, and he finally answered Hermione's insistent questions. "He's evil, and he's mad, and he's in terrible, terrible pain. No-one should suffer like that!"

Hermione and Craig, too, looked at the man, whose head drooped in the sleep that Harry had put him into.

William spoke up, "I didn't know he was evil, if he is. But I understand that he could be mad. After all, wouldn't you be?"

Harry answered him softly, but with total conviction: "Oh, yes - I'd be mad!"

Hermione asked the nephew whether the man was taking any potions, and William gave the name of a powerful pain dispelling potion. Twice a day, and as far as he knew, he had been taking it a long time. Harry asked whether he had taken his dose that morning and William answered in the affirmative. So he was already taking a potion for pain, but it was no longer working.

He asked Craig then, if he would get Kingsley for him. Craig was very anxious to do his job properly, and said that he couldn't leave his duties until Harry was finished the list, and then it would be better for Harry to go to see him at the Ministry offices. Harry usually avoided the Ministry these days, he had no business there, and he felt vulnerable in that place. But now his mind was filled with the torment of that helpless man, and he agreed.

He raced through the last three patients, and he, Hermione and Craig went to the Ministry to see Kingsley. Cecil Hausfeldt and his nephew were left in Hermione's waiting room with the receptionist.

Craig escorted Hermione and Harry to Kingsley's office. "What's the matter?" Kingsley asked. He didn't like seeing Harry here, last time it had been for his trial, and he thought that if anyone else had been in charge of the Auror Department, there would have been further trouble for his friend before now.

Harry's mind was totally consumed by Hausfeldt, and he paced the floor in front of Kingsley, explaining that the man was evil and mad, but that he was in terrible, terrible pain, that the spells were inter-woven, and strong, maybe made by more than one wizard, that he didn't think he could ease the pain, without freeing the man. And finally, turning to Kingsley, "Kingsley, what should I do?"

Kingsley was frowning. There was something that the senior aurors used to do, a long time ago. But they never spoke of it much, and the younger ones were scarcely aware that it happened. Could this man be a victim of that punishment? He asked what the man's name was.

"Cecil Hausfeldt," answered Harry. The name sounded familiar to Kingsley, but it was a long time ago.

Kingsley was frowning into the distance. And finally he said to Craig, "Take Harry to the canteen, and get him something to eat. I'm going to set up a conference, I think." Craig nodded. Hermione asked if she was wanted.

Kingsley asked if she knew anything about the man the Harry didn't, and when she said no, suggested she go back to her offices. "We'll let you know as soon as something is decided."

Craig and Harry went to the canteen as instructed, sitting at a table to wait, although Harry said that he wasn't hungry. He was still fretting about his patient. But word spread that Harry Potter was in the building, and there was a constant procession of visitors, until he nearly forgot why he was there.

Christopher Abbot, who used to coordinate Harry's overseas trips, but who hadn't seen him for a long time, several of the aurors who used to surround Harry, and even Adam Bourne, Harry's stepson, dropped in to say hello. Harry had a lot of friends at the Ministry.

Suddenly there was a plate of sandwiches in front of him, presented by a smiling young man called Julius, whom Harry had taught when he had still been a professor at Hogwarts. Harry thanked him, and now it was there, he found he was hungry after all.

He was a lot more relaxed as Julius arrived again, a messenger to take Harry to the conference room. Craig was asked to be present also, as he had seen the man. Craig was a very junior auror, and was a bit overwhelmed at being at a conference with Minister Daunt, Jodie Bagshott, the Ministry mediwizard, senior aurors Charles Mason and Ian Jackson as well as Kingsley Shacklebolt, Chief Auror.

Harry was asked to explain the problem. John Daunt leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed and indifferent. He was a tall man, with wispy pale hair and drooping eyes, rather like those of a bloodhound. Harry had remembered that too much heat could get him into trouble, and gave a calm summation of the problem. The man could not be left as he was, he concluded, that would be quite inhuman. He was in agony and something would have to be done. He was already taking potions for pain, but they were no longer working.

Kingsley was leading the discussion, and he now turned to Ian Jackson. "Tell us what you know about this man."

"I checked the records. He has killed many times, and was finally overwhelmed by aurors something like forty years ago. In those days, occasionally, instead of a lifetime in Azkaban, spells were used to imprison a criminal."

Harry was amazed, and then furious, "You mean that _aurors_ did that?" His fury was growing. "How could they do that? Did they _know_ what they were condemning him to?"

Harry's anger could be impressive. And even though Harry had only leaned forward, and had not even risen from his chair, Jackson was daunted, and quickly said that of course no-one knew that he was going to be in pain.

Kingsley was becoming alarmed. Harry seemed to have forgotten his own precarious freedom in his concern for a mass murderer, and he sent a strong mental message to Harry. _Stop, Harry! Be careful! _

Harry glanced at him, leaned back in his chair, and took a deep breath, confirming Kingsley in his suspicion that he had a growing telepathic ability.

"Healer Bagshott, your comments, please."

"Well, only those patients who cannot be healed get onto Hermione's list for Harry, so obviously others have made attempts before to heal the man. But something should be done. As Harry says, it is inhuman to leave a person to suffer like that."

Harry was looking at Kingsley, and Kingsley saw his eyes flick to Craig. So Kingsley asked Craig to describe the man he saw today. Craig described the helpless man, no tongue, able to move limbs only very slowly, and with a probably painful skin condition. Harry thought that the description would be enough to convince them to allow him to intervene. They must have ways of restraining violent men that were more humane, he could even put on a more humane magical set of shackles himself if that were needed.

Minister Daunt leaned back in his chair, and said casually, "Well, he won't be committing any more murders, will he? Quite an effective treatment, really!"

Jodie was sitting next to Harry, and put a restraining hand on his arm. Kingsley, too, had sent another alarmed message of warning to Harry, whose face had become white with anger.

Harry found some self-control, his face froze into the cool mask, and he said, apparently perfectly calmly, "I would like permission to break the spells, and, if you desire, I will re-impose a restraint that will not leave the man in agony."

Daunt smiled gently at Harry, and said, "No, Mr. Potter. It seems to me that the situation is quite satisfactory as it is. A murderer is punished, as murderers should be punished."

Daunt was relishing Harry's helplessness. Harry was looking at him, disbelieving. "You're really prepared to leave this man in agony for the rest of his life?"

Daunt rose from the table, shrugging indifferently, "The man's a murderer."

Harry rose from the table also, and threw the words at Daunt. "The man'd be better off dead! You should have him put down rather than leave him like that!" and he whirled, cape swirling, and strode out the door in an undisguised fury. Daunt smiled, pleased with himself. But Harry had committed no crime, and shouting at the Minister for Magic was not a criminal offence.

In the corridors, people backed away from the furious man striding toward the atrium. He vanished mid-stride as he entered the atrium, reappearing in Hermione's waiting room. And then he stood, still trembling with fury, as he searched for self-control. At last he drew a long shuddering breath, and went to the Hausfeldts, uncle and nephew. "I'm terribly sorry," he said. "I can do nothing to help."

The spell-bound man had woken some time ago, and now a flash of awareness passed across his face. The nephew had not felt his pain, and had not been hopeful in any case. He was less upset than Harry was. Hermione appeared from her office.

"They won't let me do anything," said Harry. "The best we can do is for you to try and find a potion that works better."

Harry went home, and for the first time since he had married Luna, he hammered into the punching bag in his gym. He was punching John Daunt, he was punching those aurors who had done that horrible thing to Hausfeldt, although they were probably dead by now - and he was punching himself. If he had kept right out of it, maybe just sent Hermione, he might have been allowed to do something.

A small figure stood at the door, watching him. She had felt his fury while she was still on the school bus, miles from home. And now she just watched him as he hit the punching bag as hard as he could. He wasn't even wearing exercise clothes, still fully dressed, his cape swirling about him as he attacked the punching bag. All his irritations over the last few years had never made him as angry as this, that Daunt had prevented him from relieving the pain of a mass murderer.

Beth was never seen. But when Harry left, she went herself into the gym, and she copied her father, hammering into the punching bag as hard as her small fists could manage. Her knuckles were sore afterward, but she found the strength to return to school the next day.

She no longer looked at the other children any more. It was always worse when she looked at them. She should have told her parents, but she was ashamed. She even quite deliberately closed her mind to them in case they detected that she was so alone. If she was hated so much, it had to be her own fault.

Harry was not particularly concerned about himself, John Daunt was already an enemy, although he had never been so blatant about it as he had that day. Murderers should be punished, should they? If Harry had been a real murderer, he thought, John Daunt would be struggling on the floor right now with an apparently genuine heart attack!

***chapter end***


	3. Chapter 3

_The Magical World as depicted, and most characters belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_Notes:__ Harry's children, Adam Bourne, stepson, Margaret, Victoria and James, children of Ginny, and Beth, daughter of Luna. _

_Chapter 3:_

Early the following morning, an owl delivered a note direct to Harry. It was a polite invitation to join a conference to discuss possible action to alleviate the pain of Cecil Hausfeldt. There was a reference to 'representations' having been made. Harry was frankly bewildered. He thought that his presence had only made things worse at that conference the previous day. But the note also told him that his presence was essential.

He was determined this time not to lose his temper. He was going to be perfectly cool and controlled. He walked through the open door into the conference room a few minutes before the time stated, to find to his surprise that the same people were already assembled, plus four more aurors at the door. Jodie patted the seat beside her invitingly, and Daunt said. "You're late, but never mind. Morning tea's on the table. Everyone had a coffee in front of them, and Harry was not surprised when a wizard behind him placed a coffee in front of him. The man hadn't even had to ask how he liked it.

Harry was quiet this time, watching and waiting. There was something going on that puzzled him. Daunt was apparently leading the discussion, but it seemed to be going round and round in circles. People were drinking their coffee, and sandwiches were handed around the table. Jodie was requested to give some information about pain relieving potions, which she obligingly did, although Harry thought she looked puzzled.

He took a sip from his own coffee, and froze. He didn't know how he could immediately tell when his food or drink had been poisoned or drugged, but this was not the first time. He quietly vanished a small amount of the drink, as if he had taken some.

He was on full alert now, and he surreptitiously scanned the surrounding company. He could feel that nearly all of those around the table were almost as confused as he was himself. He looked at Kingsley, who sat with a polite expression on his face as Jodie finished talking. He apparently sipped at his coffee again, and vanished a bit more. He felt eyes on the back of his head. Those aurors behind him - they were all either strangers or near strangers. He was very tense now. But they had no excuse to take him. He had done nothing wrong, except maybe to just once speak in temper to the Minister for Magic and he couldn't be arrested for that!

He wanted those aurors out from behind him, and he politely rose, excusing himself - and hurled himself to the side as a stunner streaked toward him. Charles Mason beside him, slumped over the table. Harry didn't get out his wand - if he fought back or disapparated now, he would lose everything. He still wanted the option of returning to England when he chose. There was Max, and Molly Weasley was getting very old now.

He stood with his back to the wall, four aurors surrounded him, wands raised.

Kingsley rose to his feet, saying violently, "What's the meaning of this? I ordered no arrest!"

John Daunt intervened, "_I_ ordered an arrest. Harry Potter is arrested for the murder of Cecil Hausfeldt."

Harry was relieved. "Hausfeldt's not dead! As far as I know he's the same as he was yesterday - seeing you wouldn't let me do anything to help the man!"

"Hausfeldt died last night," said Daunt triumphantly, "And we all heard you say that he'd be better off dead!"

Harry was quiet. The aurors just stood, waiting, tense. Hadn't they been told that he would be drugged, so that he would be easier to arrest?

"How did he die?" Harry finally asked, not taking his eyes off the aurors that surrounded him, at the same time, being very much aware of the rest of the company.

He would not be taken. He could disapparate in an instant if he chose, although now he thought about it, he could feel that they had put extra charms on this room. But he had routinely apparated in and out of Hogwarts for years, even when he had still been quite ill. A few extra charms was not going to stop him.

"Just suddenly, not a mark on him. So it's obvious that it was you."

"I didn't kill Hausfeldt," Harry stated calmly. "Am I to be blamed whenever someone dies? I don't even know where he lives."

"You are under arrest. Yield your wand! Take him! Shacklebolt, I want you to take him!"

Harry just stood, not knowing quite what to do. One of the aurors in front of him made a tiny movement, but froze when Harry's eyes immediately flicked to him. No-one was quite brave enough to try and take him.

Kingsley stood, but Harry scarcely spared him a glance. Kingsley was trying to communicate mentally. He was calling Harry, but Harry was so carefully watching the aurors in front of him, that he did not appear to be listening.

"Harry," he finally said aloud. And now Harry was listening. _I have an idea. But you have to trust me._

Harry's eyes flicked to him, but were never still, and a slight movement from another of the aurors had him watching them again. He could only keep them at bay as long as his eyes were on them.

Mason was still slumped across the table, accidentally stunned. Jodie watched the action in horror and disbelief. Ian Jackson, the other senior auror, felt he was too old for this, and had no intention of intervening. Had he not been one of five who had tried and failed to take Harry Potter when he was just seventeen? Craig was another auror, but he was junior and waited for direction.

Kingsley wanted to save Harry, not just from immediate arrest, but to allow him to stay free and living in his own home, but Harry had to trust him and trust him totally, and Harry had never really trusted aurors_. _

_ Let me arrest you. I have an idea. But you have to trust me_. Kingsley didn't know whether Harry would hear and understand, let alone do as he said.

"Hand me your wand, Harry," he said out loud, slowly and deliberately, and now he knew that Harry was hearing him.

_Make them back off!_ he heard in his mind. Kingsley wheeled on his four aurors, "Back off! I'll handle this!"

The aurors backed off. "Hand me your wand, Harry," he said again. But he couldn't help tensing as Harry slowly put his hand to his pocket, and appeared to hesitate.

Harry sent his own wand home, and conjured a pretend wand. His wand was precious to him, whether he actually needed it to work magic or not.

Slowly, reluctantly, he handed the pretend wand to Kingsley. It still felt like a surrender, and he was frightened. He was bargaining for his freedom. He did not just want a temporary freedom to flee the country. He wanted true freedom. Even if he was charged with something nonsensical, if he resisted arrest, that always threatening suspended sentence could be immediately imposed.

Kingsley came closer, and named two of the four aurors to be Harry's guard. But he also asked Craig to fetch Mark and Eli, or Zack or Anna, if either of the first two were not available, and Harry took reassurance from those names.

Meantime two aurors whom he did not know were behind him, and he was very tense.

_You have to trust me,_ Kingsley told him yet again.

John Daunt was smiling, "Tie him, I want to see him tied."

Kingsley standing next to Harry felt the jolt of alarm that went through the man. Harry had told him once that he could not stand being chained or tied. 'I would panic, I think,' he had said, and having seen that kidnap film, it was easy to understand why.

But Harry slowly turned a deliberate gaze on John Daunt, and the company saw Daunt step back and show his fear, as Harry calmly regarded him.

"Tie him," repeated Daunt, but in a high pitched voice.

Harry was not going to show his own fear in front of the bastard, and he held out his hands for one of the aurors to tie, as instructed. And only Kingsley, and one of the aurors close, felt the quiver that momentarily shook him.

"You're going to Azkaban, Harry Potter - murderers have to be punished." said Daunt, and Harry regarded him steadily, "What did I ever do to you that you should hate me like this?"

At that moment, Anna and Eli made an appearance. Kingsley nodded to them. "You are to take Mr. Potter to my office while I prepare the papers for Azkaban. He is under arrest."

Mark and Jebedee appeared, and Kingsley instructed them to join Harry's guard. "He is a dangerous man, be careful." he told them.

But Kingsley had deliberately named his friends, and Harry still hoped.

Expressionless, Harry allowed his friends to escort him to the large office, but once inside, the ropes around his wrists that turned his insides to jelly, vanished, and he sat in a chair, putting his head down, feeling faint.

"What's happening?" they asked him when he sat up again, a little less pale.

"I had a client for spell-breaking yesterday. It seems he died overnight. I'm arrested for his murder."

They were silent. They didn't know how to treat him. He was their friend. Did Kingsley expect them to keep him prisoner?

Harry didn't put them to the test. He just waited, after a while standing and going to the window, where sun shone in. It was not a real window, just a magical pretence.

Meantime Kingsley was very busy indeed. Reporters, photographers, Harry's cured ex-patients, and members of the Wizemgamot were gathering in the atrium. Some carefully selected witches and wizards were primed on what was needed, and Draco Malfoy was doing some very quick and effective work too. This 'spontaneous' demonstration of support for Harry Potter was going to be very carefully stage managed.

Harry's children had been told, but were instructed to stay right out of it until they got Harry off. Kingsley remembered Harry's state after his trial, and expected that he would need them then.

Luna had not been told, neither had Ron and Hermione. Kingsley didn't want an unpredictable wife present, and everybody knew that Harry was close friends with Ron and Hermione. They could not help this time.

"Does Kingsley seriously expect us to keep you under control?" asked Eli.

"I don't know, the same as last time, I expect - but I never knew how serious the guard was last time, either."

Outside the office, Zack and Bedwin were now on guard, preventing any entry, although no-one fooled themselves that Harry would not just leave if he chose.

A half hour passed. Little was said until Kingsley re-entered, finding Harry waiting, to his relief.

"This man Hausfeldt - do you have any idea what happened to him?"

Harry was calm. "No. All I did was to go back and say I couldn't help him. It's possible he just died of despair." But he needed to know. "Kingsley, what now?"

"I want you to be tied and be led under arrest into the atrium. People are gathering. The idea is that they make such a commotion that Daunt is forced to release you."

Harry was calm no more, and pleaded, "I can't be tied, Kingsley, you know that!" His voice was suddenly desperate, shaking. The others were watching. Harry was showing his human and weaker side, but they had all worked with him, and most had travelled on overseas spell-breaking trips with him. They knew that he was human, some had seen his nightmares, and others had seen him put such effort into his cures that he wound up on the floor in a faint. They could never have cared for him so much if he had been as cool and emotionless as he liked to pretend he was.

"You allowed them to tie you before," Kingsley pointed out.

"Yes, and nearly fainted the moment I got here!"

He fretted up and down the room a moment, before turning to Kingsley again. "And anyhow, how on earth are you going to get anyone to force Daunt to release me?"

Kingsley answered in his calm, deep voice. "There are reporters, photographers, wizards and witches you've healed, others who respect you..."

Harry was shaking his head. "It can't work. I've always had too many enemies. There are not enough to do anything to help now!" And he spoke at random, only wanting to avoid the scenario that Kingsley suggested, "How about I claim to several dozen murders and threaten a few dozen more - they never would have dared harass Voldemort as they harass me!"

He fretted up and down the room again. "All my life! All my life, this has happened! They say I'm a Dark Wizard, that I have Dark Arts, that I should be locked away - that it would be better if I were dead!" He was still restlessly pacing the room. "They said I was insane and wanted to commit me! I was twenty-four! Why don't they just leave me alone?" and his last words were a cry of despair.

"Harry, It's nearly time!" said Kingsley.

Harry sat again, leaning forward, head in hands. "What do you want me to do?"

"As I said, I want you to be tied and be led under arrest into the atrium."

"Can't it just be arrest?" Harry appealed.

But Kingsley said, "To be tied will be far more effective, and I think we need as much effect as possible."

Harry ran an unsteady hand over a damp forehead, "I don't know whether I can do it. The last time… the ropes... Kingsley, I don't know whether I can do it," and his voice was shaking, too. He was standing again, pale, trembling. "And then what? What happens when it fails?" he demanded.

Kingsley answered, _"If_ it fails, you disapparate from the corridor that leads to the prison transport." And then Kingsley put all the warmth and persuasion he could into his deep and remarkably effective voice. "Harry, you can do anything you want to do. There's no-one like you. A few ropes that you can vanish the instant that you want, they mean nothing! You can do it!"

Harry was looking at him, a bit steadier. "A pep talk? All right, I'll try. But the last possible moment, all right?"

"The last possible moment," Kingsley agreed.

He instructed Mark and Anna to come with him, and once outside the room, asked them to spread the word that Harry would be there shortly, and to remind people that his last experience of being tied was during his kidnap ordeal. He was basically using the same tactic as Malfoy had at Harry's trial. There was to be an outpouring of sympathy. This time it was to force Daunt to drop the charges, and exposed to the world, the charges had to sound feeble. Kingsley knew that this time Harry really was innocent. To have been charged with a man's murder, when he had only tried to help that man, was grossly unfair. Anna suggested something, and he smiled and nodded. "Good."

When Kingsley returned to his office, Zack and Bedwin were with him. He was all business now. "Right, Bedwin goes first, Eli, Jebedee to the sides, Zack behind." Three big men were to surround Harry, the better for effect - it would make Harry look small and slight - victimised. "I'll be off to the side. Now Bedwin, once we're surrounded by people, make it look like we can't move for the crush. And then get out of the way. We want people to see Harry. Especially we want them to see that Harry is helplessly tied, and very well guarded."

Meantime, Harry was staring at the wall, trying to steady himself, searching for strength. Kingsley was right. A few ropes that he could vanish the instant that he wanted, it meant nothing!

And he pulled himself erect, and put on the cool, remote face that had been his defence since he was a teenager, and allowed Kingsley to tie his wrists, although he could not stop the shudder that went through his body.

Kingsley looked into his eyes, and said, as reassuringly as he could, almost hypnotically, "Eli and Jebedee will hold your arms, they're your friends, and will help support you. To the crowd, it will seem that they are holding you prisoner. You are _not_ to interpret it like that. We're your friends, and if I don't get you off before we get there, you can disapparate from the corridor beyond as I said."

Harry gave an expressionless nod, the mask firmly in place.

"By the way everyone, if anyone asks, the usual corridor is blocked with maintenance men, and that's why we have to go through the public area." That was quite true - Kingsley had already arranged it.

As they left the room, Anna appeared. She came straight to Harry, produced a comb, and combed his damp hair away from the scar on his forehead, before giving him a quick, bracing kiss.

Harry didn't even know what she was doing, what on earth was she worrying about his hair for? Anna had suggested this to Kingsley. The forehead scar was to be visible, the scar he had received as a baby, when Voldemort had tried to kill him. It seemed a lot more prominent than usual, and was, for a change, showing out clearly. It was like a badge that reminded people of the battles he had been called on to fight all his life.

The procession moved off, heading to the atrium which was now packed. There had been little time, but Harry had a lot of friends, and they were willing to do as much as they could to help him. In the atrium, Draco Malfoy stood at the back, a half dozen helpers with him. There were more scattered about the crowd, in order to make sure that the right questions were asked, and that a chant was started at the right time, demanding the presence of the Minister for Magic, John Daunt.

At a muggle primary school, a small, plump child stood with her back to a tree, surrounded by children, some her own age, many older. She stood as tall as she could, her head was high, and she stared into the distance, her blunt, plain face expressionless. She was jostled and names were called.

But then the school bell went, and the children filed back inside the class room. Beth was last, a little distance from the others, and sat down in her seat, by herself. She did her work automatically. That part of school was very easy.

Harry was pale as he was led into the large atrium that was crowded to capacity. It was taking all his energy to hold down the panic that threatened to fill him. There were ropes round his wrists. Eli on his left, Jebedee on his right, held his upper arms firmly, and he thought they were constantly muttering to him, although they uttered no audible words. But they were urging him to stay calm, telling him that it was all right.

They could feel the tension in his body, although he had stopped trembling for the moment.

They apparently forced their way to the centre of the crowd, heading across the room. But then they were faced with reporters and others demanding to know what they were doing to Harry Potter.

Harry made no sound. He just stood, expressionless, although pale. Bedwin had moved to the side, away from in front of him, so that he was clearly visible to the crowd. Kingsley was also off a bit to the side, and gave answers to the reporters and to the crowd, exposing the total lack of evidence for the charge.

So many eyes were on Harry, who fought to stay in control, fought not to give way to the panic that surged within him. Once he lifted his bound wrists to push damp hair away from his eyes, and with a bit of quiet prompting, people remembered how he had appeared on a podium in a park once, held by his kidnappers, under torture, and with ropes around his wrists.

The pre-planned questions were asked, the lack of evidence exposed, and the chant started that had the crowd demanding John Daunt appear.

John Daunt appeared, blustering, making excuses. A man had died without a sign of violence, and Potter had said that he'd be better off dead. It had to be Potter.

But questions were put, a man called Stan Pickering was exceptionally vocal. There was not the slightest evidence. Wasn't this a man that Harry had tried to help? Had Harry not helped many of those there? And a great wizard, Euan Abercrombie, Order of Merlin, First Class, member of the Wizemgamot, father of Sean who was married to Margaret, stepped forward, and giving his voice all the authority at his command, demanded that the charges be dropped and that Harry Potter be released.

Harry had become more and more pale. Kingsley, watching him, thought that he was on the verge of a faint. He was sure that Harry was not hearing what was said.

Eli and Jebedee were muttering to him harder than ever, Harry thought. Zack, too, just behind him, he could hear them. But his head was buzzing, and he could not stand pretending to be calm for much longer. He looked down for a moment, at those awful ropes, and the trembling started. But he braced himself, raised his head again proudly, and stared expressionless at nothing. He would not faint! he told his terrified body. This is pretend ropes. They are not real ropes. I can vanish them if I want. It's just a sham.

Harry's terror of confinement dated from when he was just a teenager, only exacerbated by his captivity of a few years before. It was very strong, but he fought it with all his will. He stayed calm, still and proud, only his white face, which he could not control, and the quivering of his body that those close could see and feel, showed that he was not as calm as his impassive face sought to convey.

Euan Abercrombie demanded that the charges be dropped and that Harry be released. There was a roar of approval from the crowd, many of whom were looking almost violent, and Daunt remembered that his position as Minister was dependent on the support of these people, and even more, he was beginning to be frightened of a riot.

There was no help from the aurors. Kingsley, who could use his voice to such effect to soothe and to calm, merely looked remote, as if the whole affair was nothing to do with him. The people saw that Harry was white-faced, his wrists were tied, and he was surrounded by the threatening figures of large, grim aurors. More shouts rose from the crowd, "Let him go!"

There was a surge within its ranks, and more people were shouting. This may have been a stage managed demonstration, but Harry had an enormous support within the wizarding world. The feeling was sincere. For many of them, he was Professor Potter - he'd taught them at school. It hurt them to see him looking so vulnerable.

Kingsley was beginning to think that there really would be a riot if Harry was not allowed free. He was not surprised when Daunt suddenly caved in and said angrily, "Very well, the charges are dropped." And the Minister whirled and pushed his way through the crowd, back to his plush office to try and soothe himself with a couple of swigs of the Firewhisky that he kept in his desk.

The crowd quieted. Kingsley went to Harry, and touched his wand to the ropes that straightaway dropped off his wrists.

Harry looked blankly at his suddenly freed wrists, and Eli grabbed him as he started to fall. He may have managed to keep in control when a captive, barely, but he could not quite manage it when suddenly released.

"Take him back to my office," instructed Kingsley, and the auror scooped Harry into his arms and turned.

But now there was a young man blocking his way. "You're not taking my father!" he said furiously, and when Eli tried to quietly push past, James took a swing at him, making Eli, with his burden, stagger back. But Adam and Victoria were there too, demanding that their father should be instantly released.

Kingsley intervened, reassuring, "Please, all of you, come to my office, I just want to give him time to recover."

They calmed then, and followed the large black man, although James still stayed very close to his father, whom he would strenuously defend, even if he had scarcely spoken to him for the last five years.

Harry was quick to recover, suddenly struggling in Eli's arms, just a few seconds after they left the atrium. Eli released him immediately, setting him down, although he staggered on his feet, holding the wall, looking defensively at those around him.

James was at his side, "You're free, it's all right. They dropped the charges," and he held his arm, as Harry tried to recover his balance.

Harry was still white, but gave a travesty of a grin, "Thanks, James."

Kingsley was regarding him, and Harry felt thoroughly surrounded. But it was his family and it was his friends, and when Kingsley said again that they would go to his office, he nodded and followed, a bit shakily just at first, but James was close on his left.

Someone had moved fast, and although it was a bit late for morning tea, and a bit early for lunch, Kingsley's desk had been swept of its papers, now stacked untidily on the floor, and generous platefuls of sandwiches and sweet rolls and cakes now covered it.

Kingsley regarded the careless stack of paper on the floor with resignation. It seemed that someone regarded Harry's wellbeing as a lot more important than his own systematically organised work. So much for the prestige of being Head of the Auror Department!

At that moment, the coffee was brought in by Anna, who set it down on the highly polished desk, oblivious to the burn mark she had just made, as she turned and gave Harry a hug.

James still stood at his side, and half a dozen aurors studied the young man, so like his father. Eli tenderly touched the bruise on his cheek. _Very_ like his father. But Harry still looked pale, and Anna grabbed a chair for him, and almost pushed him into it.

There was a brief knock at the door, and someone let Margaret in. She had taken this long to organise someone to look after her two pre-schoolers, although she still held a tiny baby in her hands. She knew what had happened, and thought she knew what her father needed. He was still looking dazed. She placed her baby in his lap.

Automatically, he accepted the tiny babe, caressed the cheek, smiled tenderly into the blinking eyes, and touched the beginning wisps of hair. He smiled at Margaret, "She's going to have red hair."

"You've always said that you like redheads - I thought I'd better oblige!"

Harry rose, gently cradling the tiny girl, and he took her to Kingsley. "Look, Kingsley, her name is Ginny." And Kingsley, too, reached out and caressed the cheek of the baby.

Harry was looking at him, and said with sincerity, "Thanks, Kingsley."

Kingsley put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently. He cared a great deal for Harry, whom he still thought of a young man, even as Harry stood holding his grand-daughter.

Harry was preparing to leave, and he would be leaving for a long time. He had no intention of being seen in public in this country again while Daunt was the Minister for Magic, and while he was still on Probation. After that, he'd see. So he shook the hands of the aurors, thanking them, also his children, who had come to his support, even James, who disapproved of him. Harry was left alone with Kingsley, with a very large morning tea, that no-one had wound up touching, although James had had his eye on it.

They were still quietly talking, Harry and Kingsley, when there was a knock on the door.

Harry was instantly defensive, suddenly afraid that Daunt had changed his mind. But it was only Jodie, hurrying in, monitor in hand. "_No,_ Jodie," said Harry, forcefully. "I'm fine, I was just about to leave."

Jodie looked at him, opening her eyes soulfully, "You were going to leave without saying good-bye?" and Harry felt uncomfortable, just as she had intended.

"Sorry," he said, "And anyway, it's not forever, I'll probably see you again in five years, maybe."

"You're leaving the country?" asked Kingsley, and Harry nodded. "Not straight away. I have a friend who's dying. Only when he no longer needs me."

Jodie was getting out her monitor, Harry watching her uneasily. "I told you no."

But Kingsley said, "You have to, Harry, for my sake. You have no idea how she abused me last time I let you apparate when she thought you were not fit."

"I fainted, is all," he said, reddening, "It was pretty weak, but I'm fine now!"

But she was not to be deterred, and short of physically pushing her away, and she knew he wouldn't do that, he was unable to stop her.

Kingsley was amused, watching the young woman run rings around poor Harry.

"You're not weak," Jodie said, as she started to unbutton his shirt sleeve. "You're the strongest man I know!"

Harry laughed ruefully. "Have _you_ ever fainted out of fear, Kingsley?" Kingsley had to admit that he hadn't, so Harry's opinion of himself was unchanged. He thought he was weak.

He was resigned now, and allowed her to take the readings she wanted. His energy levels were high enough to apparate, and she had already observed that he had regained his colour and seemed himself again, but there was something she had wanted to check, and she now knew the answer. There had been a question in her mind, ever since she had discussed Harry with Healer Granger, some years ago, something about a high LV reading. In her discussions, she had mentioned that Harry was at the upper range of normal, and Hermione had cautiously asked her how she defined normal. She had casually said 95 to 105, and that Harry's normal was 105. Hermione hadn't answered, and Jodie had wondered... Now it was reading 115, and the monitor didn't show higher than that.

"I used a different monitor," she said softly, and he looked at her, the corner of his mouth twitching, "Oops!"

He had fixed Jodie's monitor years before so that the highest reading on it would always be 105. He hated being seen as abnormal. "I don't suppose you could keep it quiet," he suggested.

"If that's what you want, I won't even write it down!"

He stood, gave Jodie a hug, sketched a wave to Kingsley, and silently disapparated. They looked at the place where he'd been.

"Do you think we'll see him again?" Jodie asked.

"I don't know," said Kingsley heavily. "I think he might finally have been driven out of the country for good."

At the muggle school, Beth slipped away to her hiding place between some bushes to eat her lunch. She always tried to keep right away from the other children. She had discovered the library in her second week, but she had been hunted out of there a couple of days ago, told that she should be running around with her friends. So she just tried to keep out of sight, sitting on the wet grass. It had been raining earlier, and there were still puddles and mud.

Beth was discovered, and the two who were pointing and jeering were joined by others, more and more others. Beth made the mistake of defiantly looking straight back at them. One of the boys reacted by scooping up a handful of mud and hurling it straight at the little blonde girl. More children threw mud, and their aggression was feeding on itself.

Beth, with the pride of her father, refused to dodge. She stood staring at nothing, refusing to cry, refusing to run. And then it was no longer just mud that landed on her. There was a sharp stone that cut her cheek. She still made no sound, even when that first stone was followed by others.

The school bell rang, and the teacher called to the group of children, who threw a few more stones for good measure, then ran off, back to class. These were just ordinary children. They were not abnormally cruel, but something about the small girl aroused their hatred.

Beth found herself alone. There were a few bleeding cuts about her face, and on her arms, but she was not badly hurt physically. She wormed her way through a small hole that led under a raised temporary classroom, no longer used. There was just space for a very small child to sit.

She sat there a long time, not crying, just sitting. After a time, a stray cat joined her. It was a cat that no-one else could touch, but it consented to be cuddled, in the child's great need. Beth held the small tabby for hours. The teacher didn't miss her, and none of the other children pointed out that Elizabeth Potter had not returned from lunch.

Harry apparated, with relief, to his home. Luna was out, Beth was at school, but he hadn't seen Max that day, or the previous day, so he went to visit Max for a time. Max was already failing, and Harry thought that he would be needed very much quite soon.

Afternoon recess came and went. Once Beth crawled across to a corner, and did a little wee. But mostly she just sat in the dark shelter, cuddling the cat.

Harry was home again, well before Beth was due to arrive home on the school bus, and Luna arrived home a bit later. He was in no hurry to talk to her about what had happened. There was too much to think about, and decisions to make, but not too urgently. Their house was still hidden, only Kingsley knew where to find it, and, auror or not, Harry now trusted Kingsley implicitly.

Home time, and the children filed out in columns to the school buses. And still no-one mentioned that the Potter girl was missing. The buses were driven off, and the other children were gone.

At last, sitting by herself in the gloom under the empty classroom, Beth called for her parents, and Harry and Luna instantly alerted to the distressed cry that they suddenly felt in their heads. With that telepathic voice, so much stronger than theirs, she told them she was still at school, that she had missed her bus, and they came to get her.

The small girl waited where she was, where nobody could get her. And only when Harry and Luna came to her hiding place did she emerge, covered in bruises, and in blood and mud, but still there were no tears.

Her mother held her close, feeling her uttermost distress. For Beth had become convinced that long afternoon that it was all her own fault. They hated her, she must be an awful person. She had no friends. She was worthless... It was a wound she would carry the rest of her life.

Beth was cuddled into the night, first by Luna and then for more hours by Harry. She had been silent at first, and it was a while before she even told them what had happened, and then she started shivering. She wouldn't touch her dinner, until Luna organised some chocolate ice-cream. It was hours before Luna felt that the little girl was sufficiently settled to be put to bed.

Beth kept herself awake a long time that night, in spite of her exhaustion. She wanted that feeling to fill her, that feeling of love and joy that her parents generated when they made love. She knew by now a large part of what it was all about, and she had felt other people when they made love. But none of the others seemed to generate such happiness as her parents did. For Beth, it was a part of her existence. There was no feeling that it should be secret, or that it could be shameful, although she understood that no-one wanted her presence at that time. It was just a joy that filled the air, and filled her being with content. In the last couple of weeks, she had felt as if she would not be able to live if that feeling did not come to ease her pain.

Harry and Luna had a long discussion, and the small child listened to that, too - what they said, and what they thought, and what they felt. She heard herself discussed, and was relieved that she would never be sent back to that school.

And then Harry told Luna about that other thing. Beth and Luna had both known there was something that had happened that day to Harry, ever since they had arrived home. Her father had suffered, too. But her father was lucky. He had friends, and he lacked that feeling of guilt that the small girl had. Harry might have felt fear, but he did not feel like he was a bad person, and poor little Beth felt that she must be a very bad person.

Luna wanted to leave the country straight away. And Beth heard her thoughts and understood. But Harry said that they had to stay until after Max no longer needed him. And Beth heard his thoughts and understood.

And then finally, Harry and Luna went to bed, and they made love, and little Beth had her consolation. There was to be a bonus that night. For Harry was so disturbed by a nightmare that Luna started the love play again. And Beth half woke, and felt the air, and finally smiled.

Harry and Beth both slept late that morning, although Luna was up at the same time as usual.

The Daily Prophet had a front page picture of Harry standing impassive, his wrists tied, and securely held by the large figures of Eli and Jebedee. There was a lengthy story, too, about a near riot at the Ministry of Magic. There were interviews. A man called Stan Pickering, and his obviously pregnant wife told of Stan's torment when under a spell, and of how Harry had worked his miracle, and now Stan was cured. There were others.

But Harry had made up his mind. He might not be able to leave the country yet, but the world should believe him gone. He had his secretary send a brief paid announcement to the paper that he would be unavailable until further notice, as he was leaving the country.

Beth did not go to school that day, or any day after. In the afternoon, Harry and Luna went to see the headmistress and Beth's teacher. They had sent a happy and bright child to school just weeks before, and now the same child was not only terribly distressed, but had cuts and bruises from a stoning.

The headmistress didn't believe them Small children tell stories sometimes, they were told. And they were told that every child needs to adjust, and that Beth would just have to learn to get on with other people, as everyone has to learn to get on with their peers. That they would be doing Beth no favours in the long run if they removed her from the company of others of her own age.

Luna stared, and Harry stood, his anger rising. For the first time the headmistress noticed that he had a prominent zigzag scar on his forehead, as well as the faded scar on his cheek.

He held his temper, though, and only asked in a biting voice how it was that a five year old could hide away all afternoon, and never be missed! The headmistress and the teacher looked at each other, and sought for excuses. The teacher had a good one, that she had thirty children to look after - to pay too much attention to one would be unfair on the others.

Luna stood now too, and made her own scathing comment. They turned their backs on the two, one incompetent, and one who merely had the entirely false idea that parents do not know about children! But Harry and Luna had at least shaken their complacency.

Harry paused in his stride as they walked toward the car, and looked around. There was a small tabby cat regarding him. He knelt by the ground in front of it, putting out his hand to the stray. The cat came to him, and he held it, purring in his arms, as he got in the passenger seat of the car, and Luna drove them home.

Nearly always, Harry and Luna apparated, Luna as well as Harry now having the skill of apparating with a passenger. But when there was not far to go, and when they were in muggle areas, Luna drove. Harry was a terrible driver, and Luna not very good, but there was not far to go from the small local village to home.

After that, Beth was rarely seen without the cat in her arms, or within sight. But she was very clingy, too, wanting the reassurance of either Luna or Harry close. When Harry visited Ron and Hermione a few days later, Beth was with him.

Ron and Hermione found a big difference in the little girl. The little blonde child looked no different, but no longer laughed at nothing, and seldom even smiled. Now she stared solemnly, and returned frequently for a reassuring cuddle from Harry.

Harry asked Hermione about pain relieving potions or spells, and how Max was likely to progress. The medicine of Wizardkind was different in many ways from muggle medicine, but for many things, it was not much more effective, sometimes less effective. Cancer, for instance, could only be managed by good pain relief, potions at first, followed by spells afterward if needed, and when it was time, when the witch or wizard was ready, a merciful death.

Hermione taught him a few spells, but said that maybe he should only interfere if needed. Also that he could call her if Max wanted.

There was something else that Harry wanted to discuss with Hermione. He was supposed to have left the country, but he wanted her to call him still if there were any children who needed him, or if there were any new pumpkin-heads. He still thought that the pumpkin-head curse was the most vile and monstrous thing imaginable, the tremendous fury of that one he had recently released only confirming him in that view. Aside from those, he was not doing any cures while the Minister for Magic was his enemy.

Harry and Luna wondered about Beth. Surely she should have companions of her own age, and Margaret, Victoria and their cousin Gemme had their school. But when Harry and Luna took Beth to see them, their conversation was interrupted by screams. Margaret's three older children were all on top of poor Beth, pummelling for all they were worth.

But before the adults could intervene, there was a bang, and the three aggressors were thrown away from Beth, who got to her feet, with an expression of fury on her face that her parents had never seen before, and suddenly she was hurling handfuls of fire at her attackers, and they fled.

Beth's heart was breaking, and Luna and Harry's heart broke for her. Neither of them had ever experienced anything like this, although they both had known loneliness. But Beth seemed to arouse hatred! She sobbed in the arms of her mother for what seemed hours, and they could not console her. For Beth knew within herself, that this was not a trivial thing. This was something to do with the way she was. It would always be like this. People were always going to hate her. Why was she such a terrible person that people hated her?

Luna and Harry considered that other matter, too. They had never seen Beth do any magic, and while most children who had the magical talent had shown it in some way, Beth had always been such a contented soul. While the bang that had thrown off her attackers was typical of the accidental magic that can occur when a witch or wizard is angry or fighting, none of them had ever seen anyone hurl handfuls of flame, as Beth had done. They were going to have to teach Beth at home. She could not go to school.

In the next weeks, Luna and Harry started more systematically to teach Beth what she needed to know. Beth had an exceptional intelligence, and found a pleasure in her books. She was very quickly a long way ahead of her peers. The smiles began to come back, but something was forever changed. For this gifted child now carried a shame within her. Other children had friends, but she was not good enough to have friends.

***chapter end***


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer__: The Magical World as depicted, and most characters belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_Notes:__ Harry's children, Adam Bourne, stepson, Margaret, Victoria and James, children of Ginny, and Beth, daughter of Luna. _

_Chapter 4:_

It was definitely decided that Harry and Luna would leave the country, for at least five years. They would probably not even stay in Europe, but visit other continents of the world, Africa, Asia, Arabia. But not quite yet. This was a time of waiting. Harry would not leave until Max no longer needed him.

His friend and neighbour lost the strength to be active quite quickly, but he was still a long way from what he had feared, the state of being helpless and bedridden. The muggle medicines were working well, and he was in some discomfort at times, but not in great pain.

Mostly, what he needed now was someone to talk to, and Harry started going over every day, fairly early, for an hour or two, before any other visitors were there. He always rode over, and sometimes Beth on a pony would come too. Mostly, she wandered around outside. She liked to look at the foals, but sometimes she would be with Harry, and sometimes she would take the hand of Max for a moment, and Max felt a warmth. Often she would visit the cook, there were always good things to eat in the kitchen.

Harry knew that Max wanted him. Although he never made any attempt to look into the minds of people around him, he could instantly detect insincerity, and Max was insistent that he was wanted. Harry was usually left alone with Max, and they'd sit in his room, or in the garden when it was warm enough, and they would talk.

Max would tell him about his early life. It was like he felt a need to revisit the major events in his life - those things that had happened, and those emotional things that were important, too. But speaking of emotions only came later, when Harry started to talk about the things that had made him what he was.

Max learned about the wizarding world, and learned about Harry, and they came to know each other very deeply. Max's wife sometimes wondered what they would talk about so long, but Max kept it to himself. While he had discovered long ago that Harry was a wizard, his wife never knew.

Hermione and Ron knew that the family was still in the country, and Harry's children knew, but the rest of the wizarding world thought that they had been driven out. And so they had been, they were just waiting for a time, until Max no longer needed Harry.

Harry visited James at his small apartment, once, not long after the commotion at the Ministry. James had come to his defence, and Harry hoped that just maybe they could be friends again. He had been told that James had even thrown a punch at Eli.

Sadly, there was no difference. James looked at his father with a fathomless expression, and scarcely said a word, until Harry finally rose to leave.

Margaret and Victoria welcomed him always, and he enjoyed playing with Margaret's children. They were not bad children, if a little undisciplined, and Harry did not understand how they could have attacked his daughter as they had. Margaret had questioned them, especially Mary, who was almost the same age as Beth. But they could not explain their actions. On Margaret's prompting, they combined to send an illustrated apology to Beth, but it was not sincere, and Beth looked at it without expression, and threw it in the fire.

Margaret's tiny baby was often in his lap when he visited. He had always been fascinated with babies, and he asked Victoria if she was ever going to have a baby or two. Vicky replied that she thought she preferred to be an aunt.

There was Adam, too, his stepson. Adam was deeply involved in research, working in the Department of Mysteries. Harry had once been allowed to do his own research there when he had wanted. It was barred to him, now. Adam was close to James, and Harry asked about his son. Was he happy? Did he have girlfriends? He really wanted to know whether James would ever forgive Harry for bringing disgrace upon himself, and, as James felt, upon his family. But somehow he never quite asked that.

There was an uproar going on in the wizarding world. Harry and Luna continued to get the Daily Prophet, and were rather pleased to find that John Daunt was being repeatedly attacked. For a time there was a weekly feature on the work that Harry had done, with the comments of a series of ex-patients. There were repeated complaints that thanks to the actions of the Ministry and a quite unfounded charge of murder, Harry Potter had left the country.

When the articles changed to sad stories about witches or wizards who needed curing, and could not be cured because Harry Potter had been driven away, Luna first hid the paper, and then cancelled the subscription. She didn't want him lured out of hiding.

Max quite suddenly deteriorated. He was still in little pain, but he became very weak, and it was not long before he was bedridden. His mind was still active, and he found great pleasure in Harry's stories of the wizarding world.

Harry finally told him a little about what had happened when he had been kidnapped. Max never pressed, and Harry was very scanty on the details.

Beth seldom stayed with them at these times, but often she would be close. She was listening and learning, about compassion and about dying, and about grief. And often Max's wife, Irene, would find a small hand slipped into her own, and she would feel a comfort, too. For this was to be Beth's greatest gift. She could offer comfort when it was most needed.

But then there was a sad and humiliating day for Max - he could no longer control his bowels, and as he had feared, he messed the bed.

Max felt so shamed, that Harry, blushing red in spite of himself, admitted to his own greatest humiliation, that while he lay unconscious once, a man had raped him.

It was not until two days later, though, that Max knew that his friend was now a convicted criminal, on Probation. He had killed two of the men who had kept him captive.

Max stared at him in bewilderment, how could Harry Potter have done such a thing? He was a good man, a gentle man. But then he remembered the aura of power that he had seen once, when Harry had walked with the great wizards, Professors Snape and Dumbledore.

At his first look of horror, Harry had withdrawn, a cool veneer covering his upset. He thought Max condemned him, but Max reached out again to touch him.

Harry looked at the floor, and he told Max what he had never told anyone else, just how much it hurt to be so disgraced.

Harry's confidences made it easier for Max to endure his own humiliation.

The help that Harry offered Max was not a one-way street. Harry found some help, too, in his own deep hurt.

There was something else. Max questioned Harry on exactly how he had killed that man. How did wizards kill? Was it painful? Harry had been surprised at his questions at first, but he was not stupid, and almost instantly knew what Max was going to ask of him. Max was still not in great pain, but he was getting weaker by the day, and there was only one end for him. When he asked, Harry agreed. In a few days, when Max was ready, Harry would help him die.

And in a few days, when Max was ready, Harry helped him die. Max lay in bed, very thin now. His wife of fifty years sat close, and held his hand. Harry leaned quietly against the wall in the corner. He had established a mental communication with this man of good humour, sense and compassion, and when Max asked, Harry did as he wanted. Just the gentle squeeze of the mind that he had now used to kill four times, was used now in mercy. Max died quietly, painlessly.

Beth sat just outside the room, her back to the wall. Her first experience of a human death was strongly coloured by the feelings of compassion and love that surrounded it.

The death had been long expected, and the funeral was not delayed. Harry and Luna attended, little Beth with them, as she still wanted to stay close to one or the other at all times. The dusty, dented orange car was parked with the others at the muggle cemetery.

The following day, they left England, so that Harry could stay free.

A little cat pined for a few days, and then made friends with the cook instead. That cat and her descendants would populate Harry's home for generations. She did all right, the little tabby, when she made friends with a broken hearted child.

**x**

Three weeks later, in a tourist hotel in Sweden, Beth's battered toy orangutan was left too high for her to reach, and Harry looked up as she reached up a hand and the orangutan came to her. This was quite obviously deliberate magic, the sort of deliberate magic done without the use of a wand, that had made Harry unique in the world.

Just to check, Harry asked if she minded putting it back, and Beth obligingly sent it back, arranging it neatly again on the high shelf. Harry found himself afraid for her. She was already attacked by other children, now there was this ability that might make her the same sort of a target as he was himself. Harry didn't want his daughter followed around by aurors, an object of suspicion, maybe even attacked because she was too powerful.

At the same time he was pleased. It had been awful seeing his beloved child attacked by other children because of something she couldn't help, and he felt that she needed this defence. It was best if she kept it as secret as he had always tried to keep his own exceptional abilities. His own ability to work magic without a wand had saved him many times. If he hadn't had that, he would have been a prisoner long ago, or more likely, dead.

Beth had been following his thoughts. He was afraid for her. And he was glad she had this ability. She came to him, crawled into his lap, called her orangutan to her again, and just cuddled a while.

Luna was very protective of both her daughter and her husband, and she decided firmly that they would not be going back to England, or even keeping in communication with England. She didn't want Harry getting homesick and again putting himself in a vulnerable position.

Harry thought she was probably right, although left to himself, he would have made weekly trips home to keep in touch. It was easy for him to apparate, wherever he was in the world. But Luna had to make long trips in steps, a few hundred miles at a time, which was very tiring.

There was an exception. One morning, two years later, Harry woke with the conviction that he must see Molly Weasley. Beth and Luna were left in Hawaii, where they had been for the last month, and appeared in the grounds of the Burrow, the family home of the Weasley family.

Old Molly Weasley was failing. Hermione was with her, and Bill and Charlie Weasley, as well as Ron, were at the house also.

Bill answered the door, and ushered Harry in as pleased as if he was bearing a gift for his family. He knew that his mother cared for Harry almost as another son. Ron had been looking sad, he was soon to lose his mother. But for a moment, his sadness was forgotten as he embraced his best friend of so many years.

Molly was overjoyed to see him. He was like another son, but he had always seemed so much more vulnerable than her own sons. She had worried for him in his adulthood, as she had never had to worry for her own six sons. But now here he was, looking exactly the same. She touched the white in his hair, as he leaned down to kiss her, and he sat beside her, and answered her questions.

He had not been seen in England for over two years. Beth was now seven, and as she didn't go to school, they taught her themselves. She was good at languages, he said, although she never talked much. His own French and German had improved out of sight, which surprised the others, as no-one had known he had been so close as France and Germany. He hadn't managed to learn Chinese, he admitted. They had been there for several months, and had made contact with the wizarding community there, although they usually avoided such contact in Europe.

There were things he didn't tell Molly. He didn't tell her about the almost magical way that Beth could pick up new languages, even those totally unrelated to English, such as Chinese and Arabic. But this was a difference she had, and he was in the habit of never talking about abnormalities, either his own or his daughter's. And he didn't tell Molly that he had bought her a wand already, so that she would get into the habit of using a wand, and would not be caught out using magic without a wand, that ability that might make her even more the target of fear and hatred.

Molly died peacefully that night.

The funeral was held two days later, and Molly Weasley's six redheaded sons carried her coffin, as they had carried the coffin of Harry's first wife, their sister Ginny. Her grandchildren and great grandchildren followed the coffin. Harry assured his family that he was not currently a target that he knew of, but all the same, James and Adam stayed close, watching for danger. Kingsley, still head of the Auror Department, heard the news late, and by the time three aurors arrived to watch over him, he had already left.

Percy Weasley had frowned at him that day with undisguised animosity. Percy had made progress up the ranks under John Daunt, and like John Daunt, he thought that murderers should be punished.

**x**

More time passed. Beth's lack of formal schooling was unimportant. Her travels and the contact with the wisdom and knowledge of her parents meant that she was far in advance of her peers. Beth was now in the habit of wearing dark glasses. Although her eyes looked ordinary - light blue and without guile, she found that she was accepted better when people could not see her eyes.

She learned a new telepathic skill, too. They travelled widely, and sometimes they would be in poor areas, where there was misery and poverty and pain. For her own protection, Beth learned to shut her mind to others when she had to. But they tended to creep back in if they were too close when she slept. There was often a sadness in her eyes, now, no longer just for herself.

Luna had forbidden Harry to have any contact with home. She knew that home and family were far more important to him than they were to herself. She thought that if he went home to check on things that he would want to go home for good. She was right.

At his home, things were going smoothly. The money was sufficient that there was always enough for wages and for the expenses of the estate.

One thing was a relief for the estate manager. For the first time for many years, he no longer had too many workers. Some had retired, and a couple of the security guards had left out of sheer boredom. There had only ever been two uninvited guests on the estate, one Harry had killed, and one was a car salesman. And because Harry was not there, when various children of the workers wanted to stay and work for Harry Potter, too, he was able to refuse. Harry was soft - he never refused such requests. But it was Bill who had to find jobs for the employees that Harry so casually hired.

They knew he was still alive because every now and then a box or package would appear in a store room, where they had been sent home. They looked exciting, but except for being stacked neatly by the house-elves, they were left alone.

Tambo, the big brown gelding, missed Harry. No-one ever rode him, and he was relegated to a back paddock, with a couple of outgrown ponies that John's sons used to ride.

But Harry was happy with Luna, they had such an understanding, and Beth basked in the warmth of their love. She thought that she would be happier in the world if they were the only three within it.

Harry and Luna now knew that Beth's telepathic talents greatly exceeded their own, but they had still not comprehended the full and total access she had to their minds and feelings. They knew she had a great talent for magic, however, and by the age of eight, Harry had taught her to apparate. Because of who she was, because she could so easily be attacked, Beth needed to be able to apparate.

**x**

Kingsley had heard something. Harry was again doing some spell-breaking. It was supposed to have been kept quiet, but rumours had spread, and then there was some definite information.

While Harry still had two years of his Probation to run, John Daunt had finally been hunted out of office, and it would no longer be such a risk for Harry to come home.

Kingsley didn't know that there was now another reason that Harry, Luna and Beth lived so discreetly. Harry and Luna wanted to keep Beth hidden from the wizarding world, until she had learned to keep her unusual abilities to herself. But Beth's casual magic, the same as Harry's, was so natural to her that it was difficult to hide. And she was a true natural Telepath, and this was not always easy to hide either. And while she was very good normally, she had been pursued by five teenagers one day at the beach, until she had finally turned on them, and had driven them off with handfuls of fire. They were only muggles and no-one believed them, but Harry, Luna and Beth were in a different country by that evening.

Harry had resumed his spell-breaking mostly because he felt guilty not doing it. He was the only one in the world who could do this work. But when he discussed the matter with Luna, he put it as a matter of money. He had either to return to Gringotts in London, or earn some money some other way, and he promised he would insist on being paid well. While this was true, it was not his main motive, which Luna knew perfectly well. She agreed, and Harry had done what he had suggested long ago, to just offer his services wherever he happened to be.

Beth tried always to be close when he worked his cures. For the sake of security, he would not allow his wife and daughter to be with him, but for Beth, a few blocks away was close enough, and the overwhelming joy and relief in the air brought back her chuckles, so it seemed again that she laughed at nothing. She was eight now, still plump, though taller of course, with light blue eyes that were usually now seen only behind dark glasses. "Weak eyes," they told anyone who asked. Harry and Luna were not convinced they made any difference, but Beth was positive they did, and they let her have her way.

Summer in Switzerland, and six aurors, plus Kingsley, now Minister for Magic, went to find Harry.

They were appalled as they strolled quite unchallenged into an ordinary waiting room area. Where was the security? There didn't even seem to be a receptionist! An ambulance team waited in the room, and there was a pumpkin-head sitting placidly with his carer. There was another man who showed a hideous deformity of the face, his hand held by a woman, probably his wife.

A middle-aged mediwizard escorted a laughing, crying woman out the door of the inner office, and she was greeted by seventeen family members just outside, all hugging and kissing and marvelling.

They smiled at each other in triumph, Eli and Zack, Bedwin, Mark, Jebedee, Anna and Kingsley. It looked like they'd found Harry.

"We'll let him finish before we go in," said Kingsley, and again he frowned at the room that was empty of the protectors that Harry should have. And Harry sometimes needed help. He always ran into trouble with pumpkin-heads, and the pumpkin-head appeared to be next.

His friends heard Harry's voice through the half-open door, and again they smiled at each other. Two of the ambulance men were called in, and there was more talk. They thought he was probably warning the onlookers of the feel of strong magic that would shortly fill the air, and they wondered who was supposed to look after Harry if he collapsed. But they were here now. Harry would have them if he needed help.

To their surprise, it was only a moment later, that there was a sudden commotion, and a thump. Again, a pumpkin-head had come out of the spell in a raging fury, and had been stunned to stop him strangling Harry.

Harry needed to be close in order to work his telepathic cures, preferably in physical contact. But with pumpkin-heads, it was a bit dangerous, and now he was gently massaging his bruised throat, and thinking about his next and last patient.

The ambulance trolley was wheeled out, a man no longer a vegetable lying on it, and the English aurors wondered. Surely that had not been the pumpkin-head! It was so quick!

The cure was not complete. Men go mad when their head becomes a prison, and it would take months for the man to calm, and become sane, even though the spell had been put on only two weeks before.

The deformed man was led in, and again there was talk for a while, before those waiting outside recognised the feel of strong magic in the air. Kingsley gently rose and went to the half-open door.

Harry faced the deformed man, his back to the door. The patient's wife held the man's hand tightly, trying to ensure that he stayed calm while the great wizard worked his magic.

Harry was concentrating totally, and Kingsley was struck by how vulnerable he was at this moment. Anyone could just walk in and kill him now! Kingsley, who had first known Harry as a boy of fifteen, was horrified. Where had his caution gone?

It didn't last long, and the man lost his deformity, and merely looked rather like a bulldog. This was apparently normal for him, as his wife flung her arms around his neck and hugged him, and then launched herself at Harry, who quickly stepped back. No thanks! His neck still hurt from the attempted strangling. The mediwizard had apparently been primed, because she came forward firmly and took the arm of the wife, leading them toward the doorway, only raising an eyebrow at the large black stranger who stood there.

Harry had sat down, still not looking at the door. He even leaned forward for a moment, head resting on hands, eyes closed, obviously tired. This was the man who was only still alive because he never relaxed his caution.

"Harry?" Kingsley said.

Harry looked up, "Kingsley!" and he had a smile all over his face as he came to him. And then there were his other friends, large men most of them, often grim-faced men. Even lively Anna, and demonstrative Bedwin customarily wore that same look. Aurors were tough men and women, who saw evil and horrors as they policed the wizarding world. But they were all laughing and hugging this man, whom they were so fond of.

The grey-haired mediwizard watched in bewilderment. Harry remembered she was there, and courteously introduced her, although it was quickly discovered that they had no language in common.

Harry had finished his work for the day, except for signing a form that would allow him to be paid. That was quickly done, and he left the one middle-aged medi-wizard, when he had once had a team of at least two aurors and a healer of his own whenever he worked his magic overseas.

Maybe it was a different sort of magic, but before long, the aurors were sitting out in public with Harry, eating ice-creams, and feeling a touch foolish. Luna watched carefully from a distance. Beth had told her that Harry had met some friends, and she was concerned, and took less notice than she should have done when Beth told her that they liked Daddy, and had no intention of hurting him.

Telepathy can be very handy. Harry knew that Luna was close, and had already asked if she wanted to join them, and had made arrangements to meet at home later.

They asked about her, of course, and about Beth as well. Some of them remembered a four year old with chocolate ice-cream all over her face. And they remembered that Harry had forgotten to use his wand when he used an instantly conjured face washer to clean his daughter.

Harry described his travels. He lived mostly in a muggle world now, as he had done years ago when he had wandered the world when he had just left school. Then he had been under constant threat, but now he believed himself safe, as he told Kingsley when he was rebuked for the total lack of security as he worked. He did admit, however, that there were times when he missed having the support he had been used to. He had been well looked after in those days, even when he routinely complained of being followed everywhere, and Jodie demanding to check him all the time. And he laughed and massaged his bruised throat. Anna would have been quick enough, he said, to stop him being half strangled!

Kingsley thought he should come back to England, and he told him that Mark was now head of the Auror Department, and grey-haired Mark modestly accepted his congratulations.

Harry leaned back, "And you, Kingsley?"

The large black man with the bright white hair smiled at his friend, and casually announced, "Oh, I'm Minister for Magic!"

"Great!" said Harry, "I'll get you another ice-cream," and Kingsley had to quickly insist that he absolutely did not want another ice-cream.

"Well, are you coming back?" asked Mark.

"I don't know. I'll talk to Luna." said Harry.

He talked to Luna, who looked at Beth, and said that no, maybe not yet. Harry was disappointed. Contact with his friends had made him homesick. That night, instead of the nightmares he still had periodically, he dreamed all night about riding Tambo, as if that one thing summarised everything that he missed.

Luna distracted him in the morning, by a suggestion that they go to Australia and see his friend Ben, and Kingsley was disappointed as Harry and his small family dropped right out of sight again. He even forgot to pick up his pay from the Swiss Ministry, and they eventually transferred it to the English Ministry, who transferred it to his Gringotts account.

**x**

Ben and his wife still ran a host farm. Their children were grown up, to Beth's relief. Adults often looked at her with dislike, too, but at least she had never been physically attacked by adults. They stayed with Ben a month as Beth liked it there so much. There was horse-riding, which was good because she could go fast without the effort of running, but even more, there were many cats, and Beth still liked cats.

Harry thought that Ben didn't look well, but he said nothing. But Ben looked at Harry once, as he played with Beth in the creek, both of them in swimmers. Harry still had the lithe young body that he had had when they had been jackeroos together, long ago. It reminded him that Harry was something different - he had seen Harry once use a wand to stun a charging bull.

Luna looked perfectly normal. She was a year younger than Harry, and she looked her age.

Harry's face could have been any age, Ben thought. He had some white in his black hair, and the cheeks were hollow, but he had no lines on his face, and no real sign of age. He still played like he was a boy, and Ben's best horse was encouraged to play with him, bucking and rearing, and acting like an unbroken colt, until Harry suddenly remembered Jimmy Carr's complaint that Tambo was now unrideable for anyone else, and he toned it down a bit.

Ben still had Harry's address, not knowing that Harry hadn't been home for three years. For Ben, it was a reassurance. Maybe Harry could help when he needed help, although the time was some years away probably when the cancer would get to that stage.

But now Harry suggested to Luna that they make some money. They tried Sydney first, and then Melbourne. The small Australian wizarding community was well hidden, and was eventually only located with the help of Beth, who one day pointed to a woman, and said positively that she was a witch.

One can hardly approach a strange woman and ask if she's a witch, so they casually followed her, until she turned into a door that no-one else seemed to see, and followed her into a pub. Even then they were not sure. Nearly all the customers were in casual muggle clothing, and drinking ordinary Australian beer, so much better than the beer that was mostly available in England.

But they questioned Beth, and she said she was sure, and by now they had learned to take notice of Beth.

But when they enquired about a Ministry of Magic, or the governing body of Australian wizardry, they were pointed to a bloke in jeans sitting with a couple of mates, and drinking beer. Ask Jack, they said, Jack looks after anything that needs looking after.

Harry was already beginning to think that his plan to earn some money spell-breaking might not happen here, and when he introduced himself to Jack Mahoney, Jack surprised him by never having heard of him.

Now Harry Potter never thought of himself as a conceited man; on the other hand, he'd been so well known all his life that it had not occurred to him that he might have to explain what he did. In Europe, the Ministries had fallen over themselves with glee when the famous Harry Potter had turned up out of the blue, offering his services.

But Jack said casually they didn't have people who needed any spells broken. That if people fought, they fought with fists, that it was regarded as the height of barbarity to put spells on each other. Only ignorant Europeans did that sometimes.

Harry laughed and agreed that he was quite right. He returned to his wife and daughter, and they ordered a meal instead.

Jack and a couple of his mates wandered over though, later, on the general principle of hospitality, and they talked a while. Harry rather liked the Australian approach, although he thought it sad that there was no school of witchcraft and wizardry. There were only a couple of hundred witches and wizards in Australia, and they were just a part of the general community really. Spells were taught to children by their parents, and often, when they needed a husband or wife, they either went to Europe and found a mate there, or married muggles, as there was so little choice otherwise.

Harry asked if there was any Quidditch, but Jack said no-one played Quidditch, but he'd take them to the footy tomorrow if they wanted...

The next morning they had a discussion over breakfast. Where next? Harry suggested home. Luna suggested New Guinea. They went to New Guinea.

Meantime, Jack casually told his wife there had been some visitors out from England, Harry and Luna Potter.

His English wife stared at him open-mouthed, "Harry Potter?"

"That's right. Why, do you know him?"

And Catherine said that Harry Potter was extremely famous, that he had been a Professor at the school she had gone to. That he had been a friend of her father's, and now broke spells for people that nobody else could break.

"He said something about that," Jack said, "But I told him that we didn't have anybody like that."

"What about Christine Finnigan, and Stewart McRae?"

"Oh! Yes. I forgot about those," and he had to admit that he didn't know to how to contact the Potters, but said optimistically that they might call back...

***chapter end***


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer__: The Magical World as depicted, and most characters belong to J. K. Rowling. _

_Notes:__ Harry's children, Adam Bourne, stepson, Margaret, Victoria and James, children of Ginny, and Beth, daughter of Luna. _

_Staff:__ Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, Jimmy, who looks after the horses, John, general worker, and his muggle wife. Kevin and two other security guards. _

_Chapter 5:_

It was only when Harry was sixty, and Beth nearly ten, that Luna agreed that they would go home. She thought that Harry would need his home, his friends, and his family when she died. Harry didn't know yet. She had tried to put the same sort of mental block on herself, or at least on that particular fact, that Harry used to protect himself when he tried to cure people using telepathy.

Beth knew. Her mother was dying, and her mother worried more about her husband, and his reaction than she did about herself.

Harry was thrilled to be going home, and feeling his excitement, Luna wondered if she had been right keeping him away from home for so long.

They took muggle transport this time, an aeroplane from Kuala Lumpur to London. As always their charmed passports were accepted without a second glance, and the wands in their pockets or hand luggage never noticed. From London Airport, Harry sent their luggage home, and then they arrived in the apparation zone outside their house, just in case there had been changes they didn't know about. They hadn't been in contact with home for nearly five years.

Harry couldn't resist. He whistled, and an elderly brown gelding made the effort to jump a fence, and cantered rather stiffly straight to him, snuffling him all over in an excess of joy. Harry grabbed his neck, and almost cried into the mane. He had been away so long. And he'd forgotten, Tambo was old now, he should not have called this effort from him.

Luna felt a little guilty. On the other hand, she had kept him safe, and Beth's unusual talents were unknown to the Ministry or anyone else. She believed that she had done the right thing keeping Harry away from his home. It was not like he'd been unhappy. The little family had been very happy as they travelled the world together. With their ease of communication, there was no pretence. They knew.

Hand in hand, Luna and Harry strolled toward their home, slightly impeded by Tambo, who kept nuzzling Harry, every now and then shoving him in the back so that he stumbled. Beth headed off obliquely, toward a stack of stones, where she called and talked to a family of snakes that had inhabited that particular spot for generations. Harry and Luna still didn't know that she was a Parselmouth.

They paused at the entrance to the house. Kevin was watching them from a distance, a smile all over his face. Harry was home, and looked just the same as ever. Kevin had been looking for Harry for months. His ten year Probation period was over some months ago. Surely he would come home soon. And now he had, and Kevin very much hoped that he would be staying. The estate had run smoothly when he was gone, but it was like the purpose had gone.

Harry felt like crying, and suddenly Beth was back beside him again, holding his other hand. The door opened for them. Beth had opened it with her magic, and Harry, Beth and Luna came home.

**x**

There was a great welcome from Harry's staff, his secretary Margaret Brown even had tears in her eyes, though she stated firmly that it was only because there were so many of his revenue-earning backscratchers waiting to be processed by him. There was John and his muggle wife, Kevin, Bill, Jimmy, and two other security guards still left, still a large staff for an estate of not much over a thousand acres. Also the cook, and the house-elves, all of them thrilled to have the family back in residence. Even when he had been absent, they were proud to serve Harry Potter, his wife, and his daughter, but they liked it better when he was there.

Harry was sad about the horses. There was only Tambo and one aged mare left, and he resolved to buy another young horse for himself, and one for Beth if she wanted. Meantime, Tambo and the mare were allowed to wander close to the house, as Tambo, especially, wanted to be with him all the time, even though really too old for riding any more. The mare was only a few years younger. She had been a successful showjumper, but had never had a foal, and now it was too late. It would have been nice to have continued riding descendants of old Sheba, whom he had loved.

There seemed to be a ridiculous number of cats about, many of them tabby.

Margaret told him there was still plenty of money, as various old inventions still sold, and investments continued to yield sufficient for his expenses, even without a paid job. This was a reassurance, although Harry hadn't really bothered giving it much thought. There always seemed to be enough.

Harry's family knew he was home when owls arrived inviting them to join him for the weekend, or as much of it as they could manage.

There had been changes. Margaret and Sean arrived in a small bus, and they had yet another two children, including one that was only six months old. Victoria and her husband had finally had a baby, and there were two babies that day for Harry to play with.

Adam was now married, and he and his new wife had one small child to show off.

James was there, looking unusually approachable, as Harry wrung his hand, and thanked him for coming, and James, blushing furiously, had to admit that he was under a cloud himself. He had been fined and had to pay restitution. He had burned down a certain gay bar.

Harry grinned, hugged him even against his immediate recoil, and thanked him.

Margaret's children raced over the estate, making a lot of noise in their exuberance.

Beth watched them, her face expressionless. She didn't like other children. And then she tensed, turning to face Mary who was staring at her. Mary was taller than she was, although very little older. She was another vivid, active, mischievous redhead, just like her mother and Victoria had been.

Beth was still plump, as she always would be. Her face was blunt and plain, and her blonde hair had darkened to mouse brown. She was not wearing her dark glasses that day, and her pale blue eyes looked straight back at the bright green eyes of the redhead.

Harry and Luna were suddenly alert as they turned to watch the confrontation. Neither of the children backed down, but quite casually, as if by mutual agreement, they turned away from each other, and Mary raced to join her younger brothers and sisters, while Beth sat down by a pile of rocks to talk to snakes.

**x**

Hermione and Ron were the next to know that Harry was home, as without notice, he presented himself at their door Monday evening. There was laughter and chatter, until Harry noticed Hermione looking at him assessingly, and he quickly avoided her eyes. He knew what she wanted, and had no intention of allowing her to do a medical examination.

Their son, Ben, was now a qualified mediwizard too, Hermione told him with pride, and Harry, in return, boasted about his numerous grandchildren. Ron mentioned that Beth must be almost old enough to go to Hogwarts, and Harry agreed rather uncertainly. He hoped that Beth would go to Hogwarts, but didn't know whether it was possible. He remembered very well the bedraggled and bloodstained figure they'd picked up from the primary school five years ago. There had been other incidents of aggression by children since then, and now and then by adults as they travelled. Beth was seldom far away from her parents.

At home, Luna unpacked a box that had been sent home from America a month before. She ignored all the other boxes and packages - she'd forgotten their contents in any case. And time was short... She set up the large screen, started to speak, and the words appeared on the screen. Luna was writing a book.

Beth watched a few hours. Her mother was totally absorbed, and had no time for anything else. Beth wandered off. There was a new litter of kittens.

**x**

The next day, Harry Potter strolled around London, enjoying the experience of being home. He had wandered these streets many times, sometimes looking for fun and fights, sometimes just walking. He passed a vacant block, now cleared for rebuilding, and he grinned. Fancy James doing that! James who was so adamant that one should follow the rules. Harry had offered to pay the restitution and the fine, but James had refused, stiffly.

He started to pass the muggle entrance to the Ministry of Magic. As far as he knew, they had no idea he was back, and on the spur of the moment he decided that he'd go visit Kingsley, and maybe some of the others. He was dressed casually in jeans and shortsleeved shirt; he looked like an insignificant muggle, and when he presented himself to the reception desk, and asked if he could see Kingsley, the young desk clerk was rather taken aback.

"Of course you can't see Mr. Shacklebolt! He's a busy man," and when he was asked for his wand to be checked, as was routine for visitors entering by the muggle entrance, he had to admit that he didn't have it on him. The desk clerk wanted to expel him as a muggle then, and a button was pressed under his desk. An auror might be needed to amend his memory.

Harry was looking at him rather baffled. "Look, my name's Harry Potter, could you please just send a note up to Kingsley, and tell him I'm here."

The young man, scarcely more than a boy, looked at him sneeringly, "As if!"

Harry turned, running a hand through his hair. This was ridiculous! He was looking around, looking for someone who knew him. There were always people in the atrium. But the young man on the desk was now having a quiet word with another, a newly qualified auror.

Harry caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, and whirled, forehead scar suddenly blazing vivid, and a wand spun out of the hand of an arrogant young auror, who thought he was the best fighter in the country. Harry took a step toward him then, furious, "What_ exactly_ do you think you're doing?" he demanded, in a biting voice.

The man dived for his wand, but it shot further away. Harry didn't like this. It was getting out of hand. How was he suddenly in a fight with an auror? He said again, perfectly calmly, "My name's Harry Potter. Could you please send a note up to Kingsley, and tell him I'm here."

The two young men seemed to shrink, they could see that identifying forehead scar now, and certainly no-one else would have been able to fight like that.

Harry was no longer fighting, and he suggested that maybe the auror should pick up his wand, and just go back to his desk. "Oh, and tell Mark I'm here." The auror picked up his wand, and walked off, quickly and stiffly, a lot less arrogant than he'd been a few minutes before. Harry didn't take his eyes off him.

But the brief fight had drawn attention, word had already spread, and suddenly Kingsley was striding toward him, looking overjoyed, and the onlookers watched as the august figure of the Minister for Magic pulled Harry to him, wrapping long arms around him, and repeatedly patting him on the back. Harry was grinning in pleasure, too, as Kingsley took him off to his office.

After an hour, Kingsley decided he'd best not be selfish, and the aurors' offices were honoured with a visit. Harry greeted his friends, and with a sudden return to the caution of his earlier days, he noted carefully the names and faces of the aurors he had not previously known.

Mark was now head of the Department, and as he shook hands with the auror who had tried to modify his memory, he only said casually, "Anthony and I have already met."

Mark thought that he might as well do a clean sweep, and Harry met a lot of the women for the first time. There was a young, dark-faced woman with flashing bright eyes, and he asked Kingsley as they left why he'd hardly ever assigned any women to him. Sanaz, Patricia and Beryl were a lot better looking than Mark and Eli!

But Kingsley said, laughing, "Well, you're not going to seduce the men, are you?"

Harry was indignant. "Kingsley! I wouldn't seduce anyone! I'm a respectable married man."

Before he left, Kingsley asked him if he was interested in doing overseas stints spell-breaking again, and he said that he'd talk to Luna.

It took hours before he had a chance to talk to Luna. She was writing her book, and found it hard to even tear herself away for the dinner that was presented by the beaming cook. The elderly cook was very happy. It was so good to be looking after the Potters again.

Luna was all in favour of Harry being out of her hair every second week. She was busy with her book. So Kingsley had a message from Harry the following day that he'd be pleased to do it, but there was five years' work to catch up on at home, first. There were so many waiting that Hermione left a locum in charge of her normal practice, and hired rooms for a week. They were going to do this week as intensively as they normally did the overseas jobs. After that, Harry and Hermione planned to go back to fortnightly stints Wednesday afternoons, as they had done for many years whenever Harry was home.

He wondered if Kingsley was still going to insist that an auror be with him when he did his spell-breaking. It soon appeared that he was, and not one, but two aurors turned up, one to be a guard in the outside reception area, a luxury that Harry hadn't had in a long time. Kingsley and Mark had been thoroughly disturbed when they had discovered him being so careless when they'd found him in Switzerland. Harry Potter always had enemies, even if they had been quiet for a few years.

Mark had rostered Anthony Goldstein on quite deliberately, after a prompt from Kingsley. This was the one who had been defeated so effortlessly by Harry, and in front of witnesses. Harry had made no complaint, but the story had spread anyway. There were some firm revised instructions given about procedure for the rare instances when muggles did enter the building. Muggles were to be respected, and it was pointed out that any muggle that found their way into the Ministry might have some very valid business there!

Kingsley and Mark were firm friends of Harry Potter, but they were both quite old, especially Kingsley. They would not be there forever, and they didn't want any of the aurors becoming Harry's enemies. Young Anthony was small and dark, with a beaky nose. They wanted him to become familiar with Harry, so that there was no time for him to brood about his defeat, and possibly become an enemy. Harry had had enemies before among the aurors. And Harry was the best fighter ever - it was no shame to be defeated by Harry Potter.

Jebedee was to wait outside the room, and now that Harry was back in England, his old habits of caution were starting to return. He put an anti-apparation charm on the room in which he'd be doing his spell-breaking, and discovered that he felt a lot more secure with Jebedee just outside the door.

Then it was back to the old routine. A casual wave of the wand, and spells broke that had plagued their victims for years. Fifty a day he was doing, fewer than he'd once been scheduled to do in a day, but it had been discovered that he was harming his health sometimes, when difficult patients cropped up. The first three days went very easily, only once on the second day was there even any need for a slight effort, when a gentle tingle in the air was felt for a minute or two.

On the fourth day, two patients from Australia were cured, Christine Finnigan, and Stewart McRae. They could have been cured two years before if Harry hadn't been told that putting spells on each other was a European vice, that they didn't do that sort of thing in Australia. But maybe Jack was right. Christine had been punished for refusing the attentions of an Italian wizard, and Stewart had been hit in America.

Anthony did his work quickly and efficiently, and Harry had no complaints. He still felt his hostility, and wished that Mark hadn't rostered him on. He had even been hesitant to turn his back on him in the beginning, but told himself not to be silly. Hermione was with him, and she was a very competent witch, and Jebedee was just outside. He wasn't planning on saying anything, he didn't think that Anthony had earned any hint of a complaint for his work this week, even if he had been arrogant and stupid at their first meeting.

The fifth day was arduous. First there was a difficult one that was put off until the end of the day, and then four pumpkin-heads were also waiting. Hermione had put these on last. There had been a bit of a spurt of this curse, but the culprit had been taken by the aurors, and was now in Azkaban.

Harry had a little more experience with pumpkin-heads now. He touched the hands of the four, and directed that two could leave. They were dead, he said. It was only with his relatively new telepathic ability that he could be positive of this, and the first time he had encountered it, he had been upset. He'd seen it several times, now, and knew that they seldom lasted more than a few months at the outside. First they went mad, and then they died, although the man-vegetable that was left usually took a year or two to waste away, sometimes longer.

He asked that Hermione arrange for two ambulance teams, and mediwizards to accompany them, explaining that the men nearly always went berserk when they were released.

He was still leaving the other one until last. That was the one that was going to take all his effort, and while Hermione was arranging for the requested ambulance teams, having some trouble convincing St. Mungo's to prepare properly, he went off for something to eat. Jebedee went with him, but Anthony, on Jebedee's request, stayed behind. Wherever Harry was, or was thought to be, there could be danger.

Harry was eating some sandwiches that he'd bought, although Jebedee declined to join him. He had some to take back with him, too. Jebedee appeared to take no notice. He knew that he'd make Harry uncomfortable if he commented, but he noted that Harry was obviously expecting to put in an all out effort. And then Harry asked if Jebedee could join him in the room for the next two patients. He had little confidence in Anthony, and he'd been hurt a few times now by pumpkin-heads. Jebedee hesitated, he didn't want to wound Anthony's touchy pride, but then agreed.

The ambulance team waited, the pumpkin-head stood unmoving just as he was placed, and Harry explained what was likely to happen. That he had to be close, that the man would probably come out of the spell suddenly, and in a fury, and that he'd really appreciate it if Anthony and Jebedee would have their wands out and ready. And he mentioned that he'd now been knocked out three times, and nearly strangled once by an ex-pumpkin-head. Jebedee said that he remembered that one in Switzerland, but Harry shook his head. That was nothing, he was talking about a different one.

He entered the mind of the man inside the monster, shielding himself from the screams of lunacy. It was only a few weeks, he would probably recover once released.

He quietly said, "Be ready!" and Anthony and Jebedee raised their wands. Harry was going deeper, he found the trigger point, the pumpkin-head was released, and a fist came flying at him before he could recover himself. Harry was knocked over, and knew a few seconds of blackness before pulling himself to his feet, and retreating to his chair. "They're always so bloody quick!" he complained.

"Why don't we stun them first?" Anthony asked.

"I tried that, but it didn't work. It seems that a pumpkin-head can't be stunned," and he tenderly caressed the bruise on his jaw.

The stunned man was wheeled out, and the ambulance team looked at Harry in awe. No-one had ever been able to rescue these people before Harry came along.

"The next one's a bit different," he commented. "They say he's been like this a year, and yet I can still feel him. Mostly they're dead a lot quicker than this."

"Will he still come out in a fury?"

"I expect so, but it might be too difficult to get him out at all. Old spells are harder to break, even with this method," and he took out his wand, and conjured a barrier, solid up to chest height, and a mesh higher.

"Why didn't you do that before?" asked Anthony, who was becoming thoroughly involved now.

"I tried it before, but then I couldn't seem to break the spell. I thought I might have another go, though, since I'm already bruised."

The second pumpkin-head was led in, and Hermione said that the ambulance team was on its way.

"Don't you think you should wait?" asked Jebedee.

But Harry answered, "They won't be long if they're on their way, and this one might take some effort."

He placed the barrier between himself and the man-vegetable, and started to concentrate. After ten minutes, he stepped back, and waved his wand at the barrier, which vanished, went closer and closed his eyes again. Anthony and Jebedee moved in a bit further, wands raised.

Twenty minutes passed, Harry just stood steady, eyes closed. The pumpkin-head stood stolid, unmoving.

Harry extended a hand, touching the shoulder of the man in front of him. He was beginning to sweat. The monster suddenly melted back into a man, but stayed unmoving, staring at nothing, apparently entranced. Harry still had his eyes closed, working, concentrating. The pumpkin-head stayed calm, but then there was a sudden commotion at the door as an ambulance trolley was wheeled in, and Harry went down to a furious fist for the second time that day.

_"Damn!" _he said, holding his twice-bruised jaw. But his patient had not gone berserk, and had just retreated to the wall, looking about him defensively. Harry glanced at Hermione who took the hint, and moved forward to the man, talking reassuringly. The man stayed calm, but seemed dazed. The mediwizard who had arrived with the team took over, and he was led away.

"What did you do then, Mr. Potter?" asked Anthony.

"Call me Harry, and I was just trying to keep him calm. This one did exceptionally well for himself. What he did was to put himself into a deep trance, and that's kept him alive all this time. So I guess that if it ever happens to you, Anthony, follow his example. Put yourself into a deep trance, and one day I'll come - and then you get the chance to hit me!"

Anthony shook his head. "I don't want to hit you."

"Well, that's a relief," said Harry. "We've still got the difficult one to go."

Hermione interrupted then. "Not until I've checked you out! You're working too hard!"

But Harry said, slightly impatiently, "Don't be silly, Hermione. I'm fully fit now, and I've made no real physical effort today!"

"That last one, you were sweating!"

"That was mental, the next one is purely physical!"

"Well, you should know your own capabilities by now - go ahead."

Harry was caressing his bruised jaw. "I wouldn't mind some of that lotion for bruises, though."

"Now?"

"Yes, please, It's distracting."

Obligingly, Hermione smeared some lotion on the bruise on his jaw. The lotion was bright pink, but faded almost instantly, taking the pain with it.

"Thanks, Hermione," and she smiled at him, "You're working miracles, you do realise that!"

He looked away from her discomfited, "Don't be silly!"

Hermione smiled, but only asked if he ready for the last one. Harry nodded, and Hermione brought in the young woman, who was alone.

It appeared as if she had been an attractive woman once, but now an irritated red rash, punctuated with abscesses and warts covered her skin. It was a fairly standard spell that Harry usually cured without any effort, although it always defeated everybody else. But the strength of spells varied, with the power of the wizard, with the age, and there were assumed to be other factors that were not fully understood. For whatever reason, this one was going to need a greater effort.

As usual, Harry explained to the woman that she must not run away if she wanted to be cured, that the air would be filled with a frightening feeling. It would be very strong.

He was looking at the woman assessingly, and turned to Hermione, "Do you think you might hold her hand? You're accustomed to it."

Hermione might have experienced that feeling before, but she would not have said that she was accustomed to it. Nevertheless, she put aside her feelings of trepidation, and took the hand of the young woman, smiling reassuringly as she did so. Jebedee had returned outside, keeping guard for enemies, and incidentally avoiding the feeling of strong magic that he always hated.

"You'll be OK, Anthony? I can't be interrupted when I'm doing this."

"Of course," said Anthony, raising his large nose a touch, and reminding Harry suddenly of Anna, who had answered in just that way one time.

Harry took position in front of the woman, and Hermione gripped her hand, making the effort to keep herself calm as well as the woman. Almost imperceptible to begin with, a slight tingling was felt in the air. Gradually it intensified, like a humming but not quite. It made the flesh shiver, and the spirit shrink, almost but not quite hurting. Harry just stood still, his wand raised, only an expression of concentration on his face, as his body and mind generated power.

The woman's problems abruptly vanished, and she raised her hands to her face, feeling the smooth cheeks, and the lack of pain, and tears came to her face. The magic in the air slowly diminished and died.

Harry was tired now, and sat, leaning back in his chair. "Thank you Anthony," as Anthony returned after leading out the woman. Anthony was watching him in awe. And he'd thought this was a muggle!

Jebedee entered. Harry was tired, he could see, so he just said, "See you next time." Harry nodded, and Jebedee prompted, "Come on, Anthony, time to go."

Anthony left with some reluctance, and bored everybody all the following week describing the miracles worked by Harry Potter. Mark was very satisfied, and planned to systematically work through his list of aurors, exposing each of them to Harry for long enough that he thought that they would be very reluctant to go up against him, possibly under a hostile Ministry of the future. Mark was seventy, and wanted to retire. Kingsley was older, and also wanted to retire, but they would work together for the next two years trying to ensure Harry's safety for the present, and for the future.

Harry was given a week off, except for a tiny list for Wednesday afternoon, just two easy patients, and after that, it would be France for a week.

He did some visiting in the next several days, those people whom he hadn't seen in so long. Ned and Michelle Frobisher, Rachel and Edward Moore, Neville and Bess Longbottom, Nick Bagshott, Euan Abercrombie. But others had gone. Hagrid had died, and some of the professors he had known. So much time had passed. For five years he had had no contact with home, except for seeing Molly Weasley, and attending her funeral. For the five years prior to that, he had lived very quietly, trying to keep out of trouble.

Harry was not stupid, and he had quietly and gradually come to the realisation that he was not ageing as others did, but he dreaded the thought of having his peers all get old and die, leaving him alone, and he refused to think about it. In any case, life was uncertain. Probably some day he would be abruptly killed as he had been expecting since before he was eighteen.

The next day, Beth asked him to go with her to Max's place. She wanted to see Irene, his wife. Harry called up the two old horses, still fit enough for a gentle walk to the house half a mile down the road, and Beth went straight to Irene, whom she knew well from the time that Max was dying. She had been five then, and now she was ten, but Irene knew her instantly, and not just because she was with Harry.

Irene felt old and depressed. She was selling up. But Beth held her hand, and they went for a walk around the place she'd lived in all her married life, and Irene found it a little easier to bear.

Luna was still spending all her time on her book, and Harry missed her company. She would not tell Harry what it was about, only saying that it was only for herself and for her family, absolutely not for publication. He thought at first that it was just those writings she had made as they travelled, results of research, descriptions of strange phenomena, and theories about various forms of esoteric magic. He'd done some himself, and they had been sent home. But Luna had only handed that collection of writings to the secretary to organise and have published. What she was doing was something different.

He still had Beth for company, but then Beth asked for a writing machine, too, and she started to spend most of her time writing - talking quietly to the machine until she was hoarse, and then going back over the printed text, correcting and editing with the help of the keyboard. Beth was writing a book too, all about snakes.

Harry wanted another horse, and he spoke to Jimmy Carr, who had always looked after his horses. Kevin told him that they needed another car, too. This surprised Harry, "I thought we had a car." But Kevin pointed out that Harry's car was over thirty years old, battered and dented, and it was time they had a new one. Most of the dents dated from when Kevin had tried to teach Harry to drive. But Harry had been terrible, and Kevin still told stories of those hair-raising few weeks. Luna had also added a few dents. So Harry authorised Kevin to buy a car, and said that he'd go to a horse sale soon, probably after the trip to France next week.

**x**

Harry found that Chris Abbot was again to be Trip Coordinator, and Stan McMillan was still at the head of the Department of International Cooperation. Jodie Bagshott, who had been the Ministry Healer, however, was now Jodie Davenport, and had two small children. She was still the Ministry Healer, but could not travel for a week at a time to go overseas. Harry said again as he always had, that a healer was not needed as part of the team, and this time it was decided to see how it went if they relied on the host country to provide one.

Harry was pleased. He had liked Jodie, but he hated being fussed over, sometimes feeling like livestock, maybe a racehorse, the way she wanted to take her readings all the time. He thought that he could easily enough avoid the attentions of a host country mediwizard, who didn't know him.

He still had no inkling that there was anything wrong with Luna.

Luna, meantime, was waiting until he was safely out of the way before she went to see Hermione. She had thought of going to a different healer, in case Hermione found it difficult to keep the secret from Harry. But she liked and trusted Hermione, and knew her to be a very clever witch, and an expert and experienced mediwizard.

Beth spent a lot of time with her mother these days. She knew time was short. She may have been too big to cuddle in her lap, but she often took her mother's hand and stroked it. And Luna would feel her warmth.

Harry enjoyed being looked after so beautifully when they went to France. Instead of having to do everything himself, he was cosseted. His needs were met before he'd even noticed that he had needs. The aurors were Anthony, who'd begged Mark for the job, and Zack and Eli whom he knew well, and who were experienced.

Mark had decided that he would put on one young auror, and two experienced ones, in case problems arose - see how that worked out. He did not expect their duties to be very arduous, as Harry made no secret that he would be mostly returning to Luna at night, and there did not seem to be any particular threat to Harry's life these days in any case. Chris Abbot was going this time, too, as it had been so long since they had done these trips.

The week started off very easily, rather boring if anything. There were a few odd clients who needed just a touch more magic than the casual wave of the wand provided, but none that needed any more than what the observers would feel as just a slight tingle in the air for a few minutes. There was ample time for Harry to renew his friendship with Zack and Eli, and start to get to know Anthony, who displayed an acerbic wit, reminding Harry of an old friend, Severus Snape. Now that Anthony was beginning to be easier with him, Harry found him a witty and amusing companion.

On the third day, most untypically, a client strode in and rudely demanded to be done instantly, rather than to wait his turn. He was the son of the Minister for Magic, he said, and must have special consideration. Harry watched as Anthony and Madame Ranclaud, the French mediwizard, tried to convince him to wait his turn, before rather lazily intervening, and saying that he'd do the man straightaway.

Madame Ranclaud, Anthony and three French observers watched as he repeatedly waved his wand and chanted incantations at the man, who still retained his horns, and then Harry said in his now fluent French, "Well, it looks like I'll have to use some strong magic," and, "Be brave, Monsieur - sometimes this frightens people."

He turned to the mediwizard and the observers, and suggested they leave the room, "In case the magic backfires."

They left, hurriedly. Harry turned away from his patient for a moment, looked directly at Anthony, and winked. Harry was going to have some fun with this arrogant twit. The man stood stiffly erect. It was time he was relieved of his horns, and this English wizard should get on with it.

Harry raised his wand, and a humming filled the air. A gentle continuous rumbling was added. Suddenly flashing lights darted all around Harry and surrounded his patient, like ropes of lightning. A series of small bangs echoed, and then Harry remembered something else from long ago, and a resounding sinister gong sounded.

The man's nerve broke and he ran. Harry added a touch of magic. The horns would fall off, but not until tomorrow. He made the door slam behind the man.

Harry was laughing, Anthony with him, and just for fun, Harry kept his lightning effects going for a little longer, watching them himself in pleasure. He had yielded to temptation, and red balls of flame suddenly flew around the room, and a geyser of light erupted. This was obviously not the magic that Anthony had felt the other week, this was a bit of mischief! Anthony joined in, his own sparks and heatless, harmless fires adding to the spectacle.

Zack had seen the patient flee the room, and when he failed to open the door, he blasted it. But it was only Anthony and Harry laughing uproariously, and playing with light. Zack was not amused. He'd been afraid that Harry had been attacked.

Harry thought that he had best behave, and cleared up the last half dozen clients quickly and easily. Usually, he went home as soon as he had finished, but now both Luna and Beth would probably have no time for him, and the beach was close. It was only mid-afternoon.

It was cold, and Zack and Eli could not be lured in for a swim, but Anthony was, and they watched as the twenty-year old played with Harry who still acted like he was twenty, and had the body of a man little older, even if his face did show a greater maturity.

"How old is he now?" asked Zack.

"I can't remember," said Eli, "Forty?"

"Remember when we first saw him? Very drunk, and looking for a fight!" and Eli grinned, remembering.

Anthony was coming ashore now, still laughing. It was years since he'd played like a kid, and he had never expected to be doing it with the awe-inspiring Harry Potter! Harry was still swimming, smoothly stroking out to sea, until Eli rose to his feet, suddenly concerned. Harry could be unpredictable, as they had reason to know. But after a time, they could see that the distant swimmer had turned and was now swimming parallel to the beach. They didn't quite relax though, until he was safely on land.

Thursday morning, the French Coordinator told Chris and Harry that Monsieur Pompidou still had his horns, and that he was complaining that Harry's magic didn't work.

Chris knew what had happened, and listened with amusement as Harry explained that unfortunately sometimes strong magic was needed, but that Monsieur Pompidou had run away. There could be a delayed effect, however. If not, Monsieur Pompidou could return at the end of this day's list if he needed, and they'd arrange for someone to hold his hand, as they sometimes needed to do for children - and for particularly timid women...

The French Coordinator, who loathed the arrogant son of his Minister, was delighted, and spread the story far and wide. Harry didn't see young Monsieur Pompidou again, as his horns vanished mid-morning.

Luna went to Hermione early Thursday morning, and Hermione confirmed what Luna had known. The cancer was quite quickly spreading, but there would probably be a few months yet. Luna told Hermione that she was not going to tell Harry until she had to. Hermione agreed with Luna. It wouldn't help, and only make Harry miserable. She was concerned for Luna. Luna was going to die. She was concerned for Harry, too. He had been devastated when his first wife died, and now he was to be widowed again.

Luna went back to her book, and even when Harry returned for the night, he could not take her attention from her writings. He only saw her these days at dinner, and in bed. She liked to cuddle close these nights, holding him long after the love-making had finished. But sometimes he'd wake, and find that she'd be up again, writing in the night. He thought she was working too hard, as she was getting rather thin when she'd always been nicely rounded.

Friday went as easily as the previous few days, and Harry condescended to return on the aeroplane with his minders. He was in no hurry.

***chapter end***


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer__: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 6:_

Jimmy Carr was waiting for him Friday afternoon, when he arrived home. He wanted to talk about a horse sale that was to be held the following day, not too far away. Harry discussed with him what he wanted. A lithe and active horse for himself that would play with him, and a more sedate but strong pony for Beth. Harry thought that horses were much better than a car for use around the immediate neighbourhood. The car was so unpredictable!

He tried to coax Beth to go with him the following morning, but Beth said firmly that she was working, and had no time to go to horse sales. Jimmy was going, though. Jimmy had a lot of local knowledge, and would be able to arrange a horse float for the two horses that Harry told him he would probably buy.

That afternoon, six horses were delivered to Harry's place, none of them at all suitable for what was wanted. Jimmy had looked his despair at the sky, as Harry talked to one horse after another, and marked them down on his schedule, the old, the scarred and the crippled. There was also one that was dangerously nervous. The meat man went home empty handed that day.

But Harry was pleased with himself. Hadn't Max said that Seawind was a pathetic old crock? And Seawind had come good. He knew that some of these would probably never be rideable, but he was sure that two would, and there was nothing really wrong with the nervous bay. They just needed a bit of looking after, and he talked to each of the horses, running his hands over him, easing pains, and calming fears. They talked back to him, each of them convinced that he was the special beloved horse of this gentle human.

Tambo had to be kept away, though. He was baring his teeth at the new horses. Harry was _his_ human.

Harry spent a lot of the next week talking to his new pets, although he soon realised that he still didn't have what he wanted. There was not a rideable horse on the place.

He talked about trying again, but Jimmy quickly said that there were no more horse sales until July. Jimmy had decided to take matters into his own hands. His boss was obviously not very good at buying horses!

The following week, Harry looked for his playmate, and was happy to see that Anthony was on the trip, along with Jebedee, and another whom he hadn't worked with before - Sanaz, the beautiful girl whom he had noticed a few weeks before. They were in Austria. And the first few days, Harry went for long walks with Anthony, exploring the town after the day's list of clients were finished.

The others would watch them go with relief. If he was content to be _with_ one of his bodyguards, there was no need for anyone to follow. There was also no risk that he would simply disapparate, losing the aurors, as Jebedee told Sanaz had been his almost invariable habit in the past.

Sanaz was rostered by Mark to be with Harry as he worked, although Jebedee had the authority to make changes if required.

Some ancient patients had been unearthed from hospitals, and Harry had to work hard on the Thursday, afterward regretfully deciding that he was in no condition to apparate. He was restless. Somehow he felt as if it was very important that he be home at night these days, and he wondered for the first time if there was something he should know.

Friday morning, there were five pumpkin-heads, all recent. The culprit was still at large, he was told by the Austrian Coordinator, who already had an ambulance team waiting for the first one. He had been doing his homework, and knew that Harry had a good success rate with pumpkin-heads provided only that they were recent.

Harry was a bit daunted, caressing his own jaw in anticipation. Maybe he should get himself some sort of a helmet, or face guard. But still, he couldn't leave the men prisoners, so he went down the line of monsters, checking to see if any were dead and could be sent away. Oddly, the one that was hit only three days before, was already dead. Harry was surprised, and spent a further ten minutes concentrating and searching, but pulling out again, shaking his head. That one could go. He was dead.

He had Jebedee join them when he worked at breaking the spell, and Anthony who had been resting after a night on duty was called in to take up guard in the outside room.

But things went relatively smoothly this time. Sanaz was exceptionally quick, and stunned two berserk men before he was attacked, Harry managed to keep one under control until he calmed, but the fourth clouted him in the eye, breaking his glasses, then dodged behind him, so that neither Sanaz nor Jebedee could get him. But Harry was only slow to react because he had been making the effort to enter another's mind. Normally he was an expert fist fighter, and this wizard was stunned by Harry himself, with a fist.

Harry had a painful black eye, and asked the mediwizard present if he had any lotion for bruising. But the healer had none, even though Harry would have thought it basic equipment.

Three hours later, they were back at the Ministry building. Jebedee had asked Harry to come back with them, he said because Stan had asked for a report on how the trips were going. More truthfully, it was because Harry was looking a bit battered. He was limping from something or other, he had a black eye, with a few minor cuts on his face from breaking glasses, and Jebedee suspected he was not recovered from his gruelling day on Thursday.

Harry agreed. His head was aching, and he wanted a few hours rest before he apparated home. He might as well rest at the Ministry as anywhere else, even if he did have to pretend to pay attention in a meeting.

Jebedee put him in a little sitting room, and left him, but Sanaz waited outside, keeping guard, and ensuring that he was not bothered. Left alone, Harry leaned back and closed his eyes. He really was very tired. There were discussions going on between Kingsley, Jebedee, Stan and Chris. Jodie was called in...

Harry was left alone, and was quite soon asleep. Jodie poked her head in a while later, saw that he was asleep, and left him alone for a while longer, only arranging for some substantial food that she quietly took in herself leaving it on the table.

Harry woke suddenly with a start. Luna wanted him, though it was not yet late, and, not even noticing the food, he left the room, seeing Sanaz there, but only saying briefly that he'd obviously slept through the meeting and was going home. He ignored her objections, and walked to the atrium to disapparate. If he avoided reminding people that he could do things that no-one else could do, maybe they'd forget after a time. The atrium of the Ministry was supposed to be the only place where it was possible to apparate.

Jodie was cross with Sanaz when she discovered that Harry was gone before she had a chance to look at him, and to treat his black eye, but as Sanaz said, what had she been expected to do about it? Harry was not a prisoner. But Jodie thought that if it had been herself, she would have been able to manage him. She was wrong. Luna had called.

There was apparently no pressing reason why Harry was wanted home, although Luna looked at him with relief when he appeared. She had missed him the previous night, and he was later then usual this night. She still kept any thoughts of her illness guarded, and only suggested that he might like a stroll down to the walled garden. Harry, of course, knew instantly that that was exactly what he would like. Beth smiled, and followed them at a distance.

Luna spent a little more time than usual with him that evening, but after dinner, Harry knew that her book was calling her again, and suggested himself that she might like to return to it. So she kissed him, and went to her writing machine again. She only needed a few more weeks of reasonable health. She was making good progress, and could think of little else these days.

Harry had another week off, notable only for the fact that he was apparently under threat again. There was nothing discernible, but he had been laughing with Fred and George in the Joke Shop, had turned to leave, and felt such an alarm go through him that he had retreated inside, and disapparated from within.

He was restless that week, missing Luna's company, and not knowing what to do with himself.

The next week, another country. Anthony again to his pleasure, Trevor whom Harry hadn't seen for a long time, and Jebedee again. The first few days were routine, although Harry was becoming more restless, and found himself swimming hard in the early mornings, and still feeling the need for long walks at lunch time, instead of eating lunch in a sensible fashion. It was only a four day week programmed, they were to go home Friday morning.

At the Ministry, interviews were being held for a second Ministry healer, who would accompany the team on their trips. Like Amelia Bones had, Kingsley relished the prestige that Harry was collecting for his country, and even with several people on the team, and a good pay for Harry, the excursions were profitable in purely money terms as well.

On Thursday, Harry had to work hard. The random selection of cases had resulted in easy clients for the past three days, and three difficult ones on Thursday afternoon. Jodie would have stopped him, but Harry cured the three patients, sat white-faced in his chair for a moment, and then fainted. The French mediwizard checked his pulse and heartbeat and said that he seemed all right, it appeared he had only fainted.

He didn't revive for three hours, Anthony sitting anxiously in his room, where Jebedee had returned him. They knew enough that sandwiches waited for Harry when he woke. Jebedee didn't like it, though, and was pleased that a mediwizard was to be provided in future, although no-one had been quite game to mention it to Harry.

Harry went home with the team by muggle transport in the morning, but he still felt very tired, and was aware that he should not apparate. Anthony asked Jebedee why one of the aurors didn't simply take him home, and was surprised to learn that Harry's home was hidden, even from the Ministry. But Harry wanted to be home, and apparated anyway.

He was beginning to look thin. He had had two gruelling weeks, losing weight each time, and not making it up in between. Luna was losing weight, too, and Harry held her close when he returned. She could only spare him five minutes, and was back to her book. Time was running out, and she had to work hard...

Beth was nearly finished her own little book about the family of snakes. She took the hand of her father, and led him outside, away from his wife, whom he was looking at with yearning eyes.

Old Tambo was just outside the door, looking for him. He always seemed to know when Harry was home, although Harry nearly always apparated directly into the house. Harry fussed over Tambo, and the old mare, the son and the daughter of Sheba, and he talked to all his new horses. They were all improving, and Harry was thinking that he'd try the nervy animal soon, although he was still apt to start and quiver at a sudden noise. He was a bit thin, too. But Harry stroked him, conjured a brush in his hand, and started the soothing motions of brushing, although it appeared that all the horses had enjoyed this attention recently. It soothed him, too. He needed soothing these days.

Word had spread that the boss was home, and Jimmy Carr gave a glossy chestnut mare a last touch-up, before leading her from the stable toward Harry. She was not a tall horse, only about fifteen hands high. Her dam had been a daughter of Sheba. Jimmy had tracked her down for Harry, and the mare was here for his approval, although Jimmy thought that it was certain that Harry would want the horse. The mare stared at Harry, head thrown up, ears pricked forward.

Harry was delighted, and hugged her in his acute pleasure. Then he sprang onto her bare back. Her head was high, and she flicked her ears back and forth, listening to the man. Then she set off at a rapid gallop around the borders of the estate. Harry flattened himself on her back, as she sped faster and faster. And now he _knew_ there was something. Why else would he be crying?

Luna kept her mind guarded. Harry knew there was something wrong, and he knew she did not want him to know. He knew, too, that she was relieved that he was to go away again after his week off. He didn't try to work out what was wrong. He was afraid. Instead he held her close every night, and did nothing to stand in the way of her current obsession. She mentioned that she would soon be finished, and that struck him with an even colder chill.

He went to visit Draco Malfoy that Wednesday, after his short list with Hermione, and sat relaxed in the armchair in his lounge room, talking about mutual acquaintances. He'd been there a good half hour, when Draco's son, Lucius, walked unaware into the room. Seeing Harry Potter, there, Lucius froze, his guilt and fear radiating from him. Harry looked at the man, and knew his guilt. This was the man who was responsible for his short captivity, his humiliations, and his current status as a convicted criminal. Harry glanced at Draco, who was suddenly very tense. His fear for his son was undisguised.

Lucius Malfoy pulled himself together. There was no way that Potter could know that he had anything to do with the kidnap and Harry's resultant problems, and he smoothly greeted Harry, as Draco looked on, knowing that Harry knew. Lucius was head of his Department at the Ministry now, though still young, and Harry thought that one day, he would probably be the Minister for Magic. He put on a surface civility, and greeted Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius found he could not maintain his composure under the cool eyes of this man, and abruptly turned and hastened away. Harry watched after him. Draco was looking at Harry with apprehension. Harry Potter could kill with a thought, and he _had_ killed with a thought, at least twice that Draco knew, and he had his suspicions about another, and his son had hurt this man very badly. But Draco was a father, and wanted his son to live, regardless of what he had done. It was only ambition, and Draco understood ambition.

Nothing was said, and Harry rose to leave not long after. He wanted to go home to Luna, even though he knew that Luna would have little time for him.

A little later, Beth found Harry sitting on the floor, outside the room where Luna worked, but with his back to the intervening wall. He didn't want to interfere with his wife, but he wanted to be close. As she'd done before, she took his hand, and led him outside with her, telling him for the first time about her snakes. They sat together, talking to the snakes that Beth knew. To be a Parselmouth was thought to be the darkest of the Dark Arts. But Beth liked talking to snakes.

She showed him five completed books that the writing machine had made. They were neat, slim books with plain blue covers, but she wanted his help now. Once she had been at Ron and Hermione's place, and Hermione had shown her a couple of shirts that Harry had conjured long ago. They were in vivid, clashing colours, and illustrations moved over them. She instructed Harry in what she wanted - a quiet picture of the pile of rocks, and her gentle brown snakes should move in and around them. And she wanted him to add the merest touch of magic, so that the snakes would be known to be harmless and friendly.

Harry did as she asked. Like Luna, Beth wanted these books just for themselves and their family, not even for Harry's other children. Somewhere she had gathered that a Parselmouth was a terrible thing, to be feared. She didn't have to be told to keep it quiet that she was a Parselmouth, like her father.

Harry read his daughter's book. It was a wonderful little book. The snakes were not made to be human, but they were as individual as any groups of humans. Beth had a deep understanding of her family of snakes. She had first spoken to them when she was very young. She was now ten. She was truly an exceptionally gifted child. It was sad that such gifts come with such a high price.

Harry continued to play with his new horse, that Jimmy told him was called Kinship, and she soon learned to play with him as Tambo and Sheba had, bucking and frolicking and galloping. She could jump, too, although she had been used as a hunter by her previous owner, rather than as a showjumper. Her price had been high, but Harry was willing to pay it without a second thought.

Monday, he reluctantly reported to the Ministry for the planned trip to Greece. He didn't want to leave Luna, even when he knew that she wanted him out of the way.

The team met in the usual room, ready to be transported off. Anthony was there again, also Zack and Eli, as well as another young auror called Malcolm. There were to be his two old friends, whom he liked and trusted, also Anthony, with whom he had struck up such a friendship. Malcolm was part of the overall plan to have as many of the aurors as possible have the chance to get to know Harry.

Mark had given careful consideration to his choice of aurors, and Chris had chosen the accommodation especially carefully as well. They thought that Harry was going to be cross. And Harry _was_ cross, the moment he discovered that a healer was to be a member of the team again, to watch over him. He stated angrily that he did not need a healer interfering with him, it was totally unnecessary. The slight young woman looked at him, and tears filled her eyes. Harry threw himself into a chair, muttering a swear word. He was already defeated.

They rose to go, but Jodie bustled into the room and told Harry commandingly that Therese needed to take a baseline measurement. She ignored Harry's ill tempered frown, ordered the aurors out of the room, and started unbuttoning his sleeve. Therese got out her monitor, and Harry narrowed his eyes at it for a moment, then looked at Jodie defiantly.

Jodie's mouth quivered, but she said nothing. Therese took her measurements, a quiet comment, a high LV - 105, energy levels were a bit down, and so was his weight. Therese had been well prepared. She knew that Harry could be hard to manage, but Jodie had given her a few hints. The tears had been planned, the slight figure and innocent face of the healer were deceptive. Therese was highly intelligent, and had a very firm will.

Outside the room, Zack and Eli looked at each other, and then burst into laughter. They wished that they could manage Harry as easily as the girls had just done!

Harry still looked unusually bad-tempered as they started off on their journey, and his companions took care not to annoy him further. But after a while, he forgot his gripe and stared out the window. An unwanted healer was really a minor thing...

Their hotel was close to a narrow beach. The water was glimmering blue, wonderfully inviting. There was an hour before lunch, and the day's work not until after lunch. Harry took the chance to have a swim, Anthony and Malcolm also going in. There was not a lot of time, and they soon headed back in. But Harry stopped, treading water, looking at the shore. Everything was blurry. He couldn't see properly without his glasses, but he could feel. Malcolm was closest, and Harry whistled, getting his attention.

A small group of sunbathers sat rather stiffly on the sand, close to where Eli waited, Therese close beside him. Harry had felt the danger, and had made the effort to feel their minds, although he so rarely did this with anyone other than an occasional patient he was trying to cure. Their minds were bent on bringing about the death of Harry Potter.

Harry pointed them out to Malcolm and also to Anthony when Anthony turned to see what the delay was, and then he turned his head, searching. There were two more, over there, and he pointed them out, too. There was not much they could do without their wands, and Harry just told them that he'd apparate back to the hotel.

Malcolm didn't believe him. How could he possibly know that those sunbathers were dangerous? Anthony, however, thought that Harry could do anything, and was only trying to work out what was best to do.

Harry reappeared in his room at the hotel, dressed, vanished his conjured swimmers - they were wet, and strolled out the door. Zack emerged from his own room at the same time, as it was almost time for lunch. Zack had been resting in case someone was needed for night duty.

Back at the beach, Eli, Malcolm and Anthony drew their wands, and silently approached the sunbathers whom Harry had pointed out. They were a menacing trio, the aurors, with that feel of dangerous and ruthless men. The sunbathers were already worried. Potter had not come to shore with his companions, and they were on their feet, trying to find the dark head of the swimmer who was their prey.

The anti-disapparation spells were sent, and the men were arrested, and then the second pair. The English aurors liaised with the Greek Ministry, and the men were questioned, their intentions ascertained, and they were gaoled.

Harry was surprised when they found him with Zack at lunch and told him that the men were under arrest. "I didn't think you could do anything unless they acted!"

But Eli said that with the questioning that the Greeks would do, it was easy to prove intention to commit a crime. Anthony asked Harry what he would have done himself.

"If they hadn't done anything yet? Run away and be careful, probably - not much else to do!"

The team were a bit late to start the afternoon's work, as Eli, Malcolm and Anthony had been late for lunch, and were still eating. Harry had said that he could go with just Zack, but Eli, in charge that week, said that he had to wait.

Therese was watching him speculatively. She had hoped to have a chance to get a better look at him when he'd been in just swimmers, but first she'd been a bit slow, and then he'd apparated straight from swimming to his hotel room. She'd missed out. She was really itching to do a full and thorough examination, but had been warned not to try his patience - that he always hated being examined.

The afternoon's work went quickly and easily, though Therese for the first time felt a gentle tingling of magic in the air. At the scheduled afternoon tea break, she asked if that was what she had been warned about, and Malcolm, who had been rostered to be in the room with Harry, too, also looked up, questioning. Harry was looking a bit abstracted, so Eli answered for him. "You'll know when you feel it!"

She was not to feel it until Wednesday, and even then Harry cut it short when it was not immediately successful, and, instead, carefully prepared the wizard for his alternative method. Luckily it did not appear to bother this man, and Harry broke his spell using just a touch of magic and a bit of telepathy. It was a lot easier for Harry, just as long as he wasn't attacked afterward by a bitterly resentful wizard. Harry was saving himself. He didn't want to become too tired this week to go home.

He appeared in his swimmers again after work that day, and Therese was able to unobtrusively observe his body. Fit, vigorous and young, although the man was sixty. Jodie had told her what to expect, but she still thought herself privileged to be watching over one of those very rare witches or wizards who might live an unnaturally long life. There were only ever one or two in a generation.

They usually finished early, as there were never too many scheduled in a day. Harry had collapsed too many times, and his minders tried to take care that he was not worked to exhaustion. The workload, of course, was unpredictable. The patients who turned out to be difficult were not easy to forecast, although Harry did point out that patients who had been buried in institutions for decades were often pretty tough.

They were all there that Wednesday afternoon after the swimming, at a little outside table near the beach. The aurors had noticed that Harry was more alert these days, often scanning his surroundings with a wary look in his eyes. He had been told that the potential attackers of Monday were working for reward, that the person behind the attacks was not known to them. Harry wondered privately about Lucius Malfoy. Draco had saved him from a prison sentence, and Harry didn't want to have to take action against Draco's son. But he couldn't just wait to be killed, either.

The conversation turned to the men captured two days before, still in gaol. "I'm impressed," said Harry. "Once when I presented the Ministry with a captured killer, they just declared he was lost and rebuked me for destroying his wand!"

The aurors were unable to believe him at first, and he gave some details. They knew a fair bit of Harry's early history, it was a part of the recent history of wizardry, but those times when the Ministry had acted against him had been left out.

"Had you killed many people then?" asked Malcolm.

"Only Voldemort, and everyone was quite pleased about that!"

"Who's Voldemort?" asked Therese, although the aurors knew.

Harry stared at her in disbelief, and then laughed. "He's history, but I forgot that he was getting to be ancient history," and he rose and stretched. He was only wearing brief swimmers, a towel held in his hand. "And anyhow, I've hardly ever killed - not without a very good reason," and he turned and walked off.

The eyes of Therese lingered on his strongly muscled back and shoulders, and her interest was not purely medical. Malcolm was looking at Therese in her bikini. His interest was not medical either.

Zack followed Harry to his room, although he said that he was only going home, and did.

Harry was less relaxed the day after. He was restless, feeling the need to extend himself physically. He had a swim at lunchtime, and after work, he announced that he was going on a long walk, and asked if anyone wanted to come. Unless he made the effort to lose them, he knew that he'd only be followed anyway.

Eli raised an eyebrow at Anthony, who immediately agreed. But this was not a companionable stroll. Harry was striding hard, trying to walk out the restless unhappiness he was feeling. Harry had noticed that Eli was keeping them in sight as well, having an easier time of it than poor Anthony, with his shorter legs.

At a table close to the beach, two young girls were being hassled by a pair of youths, and Anthony saw Harry slow down, and a wolfish grin spread across his face. He had heard about this, although Harry hadn't done it for years. Harry was out for a fight!

They strolled closer, Anthony watching Harry with worry. Yes, the girls definitely wanted the boys to leave them alone. Yes, there was an excuse for a fight, but Harry abruptly turned to Anthony, the fierce grin fading from his face. "What are your instructions if I get into a fight?"

Anthony replied steadily, "If you get into a fight, we're to keep out of it unless it looks like you're going to get hurt, and then we should intervene to protect you."

Harry said, "Hardly seems fair, does it?"

The two youths suddenly saw something, and turned and ran, leaving the girls alone. "What did you do?" asked Anthony.

"They saw a Dementor - it's the scariest thing I know."

Harry was staring out to sea. It was a beautiful blue, with islands showing misty in the sea. Red and pink geraniums spilt from window boxes around him. The houses were made of a softly pinkish stone. It was a lovely place. Harry Potter wished he could have a fight!

He was walking slowly now, tiredly. "I don't think I'll be doing this for much longer," he said, making no further explanation, but slipping into a deep doorway out of sight of muggles, and disapparating. Anthony looked at the place he had been, before turning and joining Eli who had been not far behind.

Harry reported in to Luna that he was home, but she only looked up briefly, smiled at him, and went on editing her work. He looked at her a while, but Luna scarcely noticed. She was getting very thin, and he had seen her taking a potion once. A hand slipped into his, and Beth led him away. Luna needed a little more time. She was nearly finished.

A tabby cat followed them, as Harry took his accustomed route to the horse paddock. Tambo was behind him, nearly treading on his heels, and he turned for a moment, hugging the horse, and burying wet eyes in his mane. Beth had attached the rope reins to Kinship's halter, and she brought the mare out the gate.

She touched him again. "Go for a ride on Kinship," she told him.

Harry easily leapt onto the horse's bare back, but looked at Beth. "Where do you get your courage?" he asked her.

"From you," the girl answered, but Harry just shook his head, his eyes still wet, and the mare set off at a canter down the drive.

Harry retained some sense, and it was only when he came to the bridle track that led onto the moors that Kinship flattened into a speedy gallop. Harry felt that she could not go fast enough for him this day. He was crouched low over her withers, and she stretched and galloped a long way, responding to his need. He was feeling a sense of revolt, a wild despair. He didn't think he could live through the next phase of his life! Why couldn't it have been him? It would be so much easier to die himself.

They came home late, both of them weary. At dinner, Luna said that he should see if he could organise to go away again next week, instead of having the customary week off, and then she wanted him to stay home with her a while. He did not question her. His only word was yes, but he held her very close that night, and scarcely slept.

The following morning, he went to the Ministry office, to see Chris. The next week's work could be put forward, but then that was to be all for the time. He made no explanation, and he was looking so sad that Chris asked for none, but did as he said. And then he went back to Greece for the Friday morning's work before the week was over. He was a little late, but no-one said anything there either.

The morning's work was easy, and Harry didn't even have the spirit to object when Therese wanted to check him over before they left, although she only took the basic readings of weight and Nisco, which only took a minute, and she made no comment.

He told them as they waited at the airport. One more overseas trip the next week, if Chris could arrange it in time, and then that was to be all. They had known there was something wrong, and when Therese asked him softly to tell them why, he just said briefly that Luna was sick. But when she took his hand and squeezed it, tears filled his eyes. He abruptly rose and said that he was apparating. It took too long the other way.

They had asked him before how he apparated so far, but he only said that it was easy enough if it was done in steps. But none of them thought that Harry did it in steps.

**x**

They gave him exactly the same team for the following weeks' work. Harry took care of himself, and when he struck a difficult client, he used the telepathic method of curing rather than the other method, that was less offensive to his clients, but left him very tired. Luckily there was only one like that, and, although the man looked at him rather bitterly afterward, he was not punched, and after all, he had warned the man, who had suffered his problems a long time.

Eli bought them all ice-creams the first day, and Harry smiled at him. "Have I converted you?" But Eli only said that sometimes ice-creams are needed. Harry had not told them any more, other than his bare statement the previous week that Luna was sick. But he didn't go looking for fights this week, only swimming every day at lunchtime, and going home as soon as the day's work was done.

Beth, at home, thought that ice-creams are sometimes needed, as well. She had ice-cream every day. It helped her be brave. Only two people in the world loved her, and she was going to lose one of them.

Luna was still busy, working frantically day and night. That weekend, she punched the buttons, and the writing machine made her book for her, five copies, as Beth had done.

She looked up, looked about her. The book was done. Now she could give way to the weakness that was claiming her, and she picked up a cushion, and took herself outside into the weak June sunshine, lying on the thick lawn, feeling the gentle warmth. It would be soon enough that there would be no more sunshine for her. She slept. She was so tired. Not in pain, just tired.

Luna and Harry lived ten days together, holding each other constantly, Beth always close. Luna now opened her mind to Harry, as he opened his to her. They had no secrets from each other. They had never had any from their daughter. Hermione now came daily, making sure that Luna did not suffer. But Luna had done what she had set out to do. Harry hadn't even read it yet. He couldn't spare the time. He needed to be with his wife.

Wednesday afternoon, early in July, Luna lay in the sunshine, and closed her eyes. They had been together eleven years. It had been good.

For the second time, Harry laid out the body of a beloved wife, this time with the help of a daughter who already had the wisdom and compassion that would mark her character. Harry closed Luna's hand over her wand, and bowed his head.

***chapter end***


	7. Chapter 7

_Notes:__ Harry's staff mentioned in this chapter: Bill, manager, Jimmy, who looks after the horses, Kevin, gardener andformer security guard._

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 7:_

They buried Luna in the walled garden. Only Harry, Beth and Hermione present, plus several respectful employees. Luna had never had friends much - at school they had called her Loony, and sometimes in adulthood as well. There was no family aside from her husband and her daughter.

She had left her newspaper to her editor, who had run the paper almost single-handed for the last ten years.

That evening, Beth took one of Luna's books across to Harry, who looked at it a moment, then with a sudden upsurge of fury, hurled it across the room. He was standing, breath coming fast and shallow, looking around him desperately, not knowing what to do in his pain. Beth rose, went to his room, and brought back his wallet and his cape. "Go for a walk," she commanded him. "That'll help."

His attention came back to his daughter. How was she being so brave? Beth put her arms around her father.

She was not brave, she thought. It was just that her father was different. Harry felt things more than most people. She had felt his overwhelming joy in life when he played, his rare anger, and his tender love for his wife. And now there was a bitter, bitter loneliness fighting to get through. She had felt his temptation, too. In death, he might find again those he had lost.

"Go for a walk," she told him again, and he stood. Beth adjusted the cape around him, he reached a hand to touch her for a moment, and then was gone.

In London, he could walk and walk. There were endless footpaths in the big city, that led him on and on. For the next four hours, he walked. Not thinking, not feeling, just walking.

His path was blocked by young men. There appeared to be two gangs, facing each other, preparing to fight. Two of them were between the others, a husky young man, with fists balled, and a smaller one with a sharp face, who suddenly produced a knife. The others were hanging back, watching. And Harry also watched, joining the ring around the fighters, oblivious to any sense of his own potential danger.

For a time he watched. His mind was moving sluggishly, there had been too much pain just recently. But when the unarmed man received a shallow slash on his arm, the knife suddenly spun out of the other's hand, and was lost to view. Fights should be fair.

Abruptly he was bored, and started manoeuvring his way through the men to go on his way. They were obstructive, and a couple of times he wound up thrusting them aside. He was only walking, it should not have made a difference to him which way he went, but it never occurred to him to turn back, even when half the time he was going in circles. Police sirens sounded, and the men scattered.

Harry just walked on.

Two hours later, he again found men blocking his way. It was one of the same gangs that he had seen before, but now it was later in the night, and they had not had their fight, and they had not tormented any passers by, and here was this odd man in a cape, who scarcely seemed aware of his surroundings. They blocked his way, pushing back when he tried to push through, and there were a few jeers and heckles, penetrating his dazed confusion.

He stepped back, shaking his head a moment, his eyes became more alert, and then a fierce grin appeared on his face.

"One at a time!" he said. "Fights should be fair. I'll take you all on, but one at a time!"

"You want a fight?" said one, "I'll give you a fight!" And he took a swing at Harry, who easily dodged back out of the way.

"My name's Harry," he said, and dodged again. He hadn't fought since he had married Luna, but his speed of reflex was still there, and he dodged again, easily. "That's not good enough," he declared, "I'd best try someone else, or maybe two."

These provocative words were enough to trigger a very determined and aggressive attack from the man, but Harry was able to slip out of the way, seeming without effort, and suddenly stepped forward and knocked him out with one swift blow to the jaw, the first blow he had struck.

"Next?" he said, standing apparently relaxed. He still had a wolfish grin on his face. "How about you two?"

The two he indicated glanced at each other, but advanced, if a touch reluctantly. They did not want to lose face in front of their friends.

This was better, and Harry received a couple of glancing blows on his ribs. He never felt it was a fight when he was untouched! They retreated after a bit, but now there was blood here and there. The man he had first knocked down was reviving.

"He's probably got AIDS," called one, "Be careful!"

Harry shook his head. "No AIDS, I was a married man," and his voice suddenly held an infinite sadness, "... she died!"

He became suddenly vicious, and the pair he was fighting went down. They held off then, and he was frustrated, "Come on, I need to fight." He walked up and down in front of them. "I need to fight! Look, I'm wearing a cape, I'm probably a queer, I'm your target."

He was swaying slightly, a bruise on his cheek, and he wasn't quite making sense.

"Why don't you just throw a punch?" asked one.

"Never hit first. That's against the rules!" And he begged them, "Please?"

Two more came forward. Harry was slowing down. He had walked many miles that night, and had already defeated five of their number, but one of these finally managed to take him, and he went down to a heavy blow on the jaw.

But now police sirens were sounding again - someone had reported the disturbance. The gang started to scatter, but two went to Harry, and he was bundled up and taken with them. A policeman was fast enough to recognise the inert figure in the arms of a young thug, but there were a dozen in the gang, and he only called for reinforcements, as the gang retreated, taking Harry with them.

But a report went in, and a sergeant called Peter Ramsbottom remembered the old instructions if Harry Potter was sighted. A phone call went to the Auror Department of the Ministry of Magic. Were they still interested in hearing what he was up to? The auror on duty was not quite sure. It was over ten years ago that they had tried to keep Harry out of trouble, and the instructions were long out of date. Mark was contacted, and he swore. It seemed that the moment he lost his wife, Harry Potter was back to his old habits.

Aurors were sent out, further contact with muggle police were made, and Mark went into the office. It was not just that Harry was valuable to the Ministry, he was a friend, and they said that he was unconscious in the hands of a London street gang!

Harry woke in a derelict house. They were several young men around him, sitting with bottles in hand mostly, and talking peacefully. Harry sat, leaning against the wall. Someone offered him a bottle, and he drank. But then he just put it down, and stared into the distance.

"You said your name was Harry?" said a young man.

Harry nodded. "Harry Potter," he said, extending a hand.

"Chris Barnes."

Another came over, "Peter Barnes."

Harry shook their hands as the rest of them introduced themselves.

"Do you do this often?" asked one, "Going around picking a fight?"

Harry was looking into the distance. "Not for a long time."

"Why did you do it tonight?" asked Chris.

"It makes me feel alive," said Harry, "and tonight - I guess I just wanted to hit someone." He looked down again, ashamed, "Sorry."

Chris had a livid bruise on his cheek. So did Harry actually, although his glasses were still miraculously intact.

"You said your wife died."

Harry was surprised, "Did I say that?"

"That's what you said. Is it true?"

Harry looked at Chris, and his eyes were suddenly swimming in tears. "I buried her this morning."

Luna was dead. How could he go on living? He rose shakily to his feet, and when he tried to walk, he staggered. He put out a hand, but stopped himself in time. He had nearly conjured a cane in front of a dozen muggles! With an effort, he regained his balance, and walked out the door.

They were watching him, and suddenly Chris and his brother, Peter, rose and followed him. A few more stood a little more reluctantly. Unaccountably, Chris was feeling possessive about Harry. He obviously needed protection. He was not thinking straight.

Harry scarcely seemed to notice their presence at first. But then he started talking, all about Luna, what they had done together. How they could talk together, almost without words. There was a daughter, he said. How was it that the daughter was stronger than he was? He talked on and on, and Chris and Peter walked by his sides, although the other three tired and dropped out. Once they walked through a park, and Harry stopped and picked up a strong, straight stick from the ground. It would help him keep his balance.

After a long while, he fell silent, and then stopped, swaying slightly, didn't speak, but wrapped himself up in his cape, and lay down, apparently to sleep. Chris and Peter looked at each other. This was a bad neighbourhood, he couldn't just go to sleep here. They conferred a little, then bullied him to his feet, and walked him to a nearby hotel. They had little money between them, but found his wallet, and used that to pay for a room for the three of them.

**x**

It had been nearly dawn when they took the room, and it was noon before Harry stirred, looked around, and wondered where on earth he was. There were four narrow single beds in the room, two of them still occupied. One of the men was snoring softly.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, as the events of the previous evening gradually seeped back into his brain. His shoes were on the floor, and his cape was crumpled in a corner, otherwise he was fully dressed. He was hungry, and he was unwashed, but there was a small and not very clean shower and toilet. He washed himself, cleaned his clothes with magic, and shook out the creases in his cape. His feet were very badly blistered, his socks had been caked with blood, so that he had had to soak them off. He was stiff and sore and he wondered just how far he had walked the previous night. He was quite unable to put on his shoes.

Harry knew that he had lost his wife, that he would never see her again. But somehow it was a little easier to bear now.

He thought he'd best check into reception. It was obviously way past checkout time, and he would have to pay for another night. Outside his room, Anna and Zack were on guard. He looked at them with astonishment, "What are you doing here?"

Anna smiled at him, "Trying to look after you - as always." And then she gave him a hug, "I'm sorry about Luna."

He hugged her back, and thanked her. There was some spectacular bruising on his face, his knuckles were skinned, his bare feet looked dreadful, and they had already noticed that he was moving with difficulty.

"Where were you planning on going now?" Zack asked.

"Find reception, and pay more money, before we get thrown out," said Harry.

"That's already done," said Zack.

"Well!" said Harry. "Just proves it then - I've been wrong all these years, it really is useful being followed around."

"Who's with you, anyway?"

"Chris and Pete - they're friends, but they're still asleep."

"There's a bakery just around the corner, if you want anything to eat," said Anna. Harry was looking far too thin, she thought.

Harry poked his head back in the room, but his friends were still sound asleep.

Chris and Pete woke to the sound of conversation, and the scent of food. Zack had come into the room, but Anna remained outside, on guard. Harry made introductions all around, as he distributed an ample supply of lunch from the bakery. Anna already had a couple of donuts. He didn't mention to his young friends that there was a guard outside. Too difficult to explain.

He introduced them to Zack, not offering any explanation at all as to how his friend Zack came to be there. Both Pete and Chris showed black eyes, and other bruises, and when they got to their feet, they complained bitterly at how far Harry had made them walk.

Zack was amused - how had Harry become so friendly with some punks on the street, whom he had not even met until the previous night - and then they'd fought!

Pete and Chris regarded Zack with admiration. Zack was in his thirties now, and was a large man with an air of toughness and maturity. Chris was nineteen, Pete a year younger. Zack was what they would want to be, rather than just young punks on the street, neither of them with a job.

Harry suddenly raised his head, looking into the distance. How had Beth contacted him from this distance? But Beth was only checking up, he wasn't needed.

He was preparing to leave now, and he turned to Zack, "I'll be with you shortly," he said, and Zack nodded and waited outside with Anna.

Harry turned back to his new friends, and asked Chris what he owed him, presuming that Chris had paid for the hotel. But Chris just grinned, and said that they'd paid from Harry's wallet, and the room was in his name.

Harry was looking at them both. They didn't know just how much they had helped him. He thanked them, but they waved it aside. It was a weekday, and there was no mention of work. He didn't want to ask exactly, it sounded a bit tactless, but just in case, he said, "If you ever want a job, there's always a place for extra workers at my place," and he scribbled a map on a greasy pie bag, a map that his enemies would have given a fortune for. "Just come and ask for Harry," he said, and he stood, thanked them again, and left, joining Anna and Zack, those from his own world.

He was holding his shoes by the laces. His feet were terribly sore, and he thought that he might call in on Hermione for patching up. He could do a lot himself, of course, but she knew what she was doing. And besides, he felt like being coddled a little!

Anna and Zack had something else in mind. They urgently wanted him at the Ministry. Some of their Austrian colleagues had been turned into pumpkin-heads, although the culprit had finally been taken. They knew from Harry that pumpkin-heads needed to be rescued urgently. 'First they go mad, and then they die', he had said. And they had only recently been in Austria, where Jebedee, Sanaz and Anthony had met some of the Austrian aurors who had provided additional security to the hotel where they stopped. Two of these were no longer human.

Harry tried again to put on his shoes, but quickly changed his mind. He would carry his shoes, and he painfully straightened. He would go straight away if they wanted, but maybe Jodie or Therese could fix him up a bit first. They apparated into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Zack went with him as he hobbled painfully to see one of the Ministry healers, finding Therese in her office.

Mark found him there ten minutes later, wearing just underpants, and showing bruises over most of his body. Therese was anointing the violet lotion she favoured over the sore spots, applying it tenderly to his bruised face. She looked at his feet, and asked him how far he had walked.

"Most of the night, I think," he replied.

She touched the areas of acute soreness, and finally gently applied some lotion. "Well, you'll have to go without shoes for a few days. You've done too much damage."

Mark said then, "Have you heard, Therese? Can you come if we go straight away? We'll be back tonight." Therese nodded.

Harry asked, "How many are there?"

"Seven, five of them aurors," said Mark.

"Seven! He must have been good!"

"We're flying over straight away if you're fit enough," said Mark.

Harry just nodded, and asked, "Can I have Sanaz? She's the fastest of them all!"

"Sanaz? Who else?"

"Whoever you think. But they have to be fast! And I want two in the room with me, maybe three if they were aurors, they're probably even more dangerous than usual," and he touched his own jaw. Aurors could probably hit very hard. He added, "I'll have to duck home and tell Beth first, maybe even bring her. She only lost her mother two days ago, remember."

There seemed to be finished, so he slipped on his clothes. Therese said quickly, "One moment," monitor in hand.

Harry sighed, but didn't object. Therese frowned at the results. The LV reading was down a few points to 102, the energy levels were low, too, and Harry had lost more weight. But she knew what was at stake. Harry would save lives today. She would not interfere.

Harry didn't have to apparate as Beth made contact again, and he was able to tell her what was in the wind. Beth didn't want to come, to Harry's relief. He still thought that it was best if she was kept right away from notice of the Ministry.

Back home, Beth was pleased. Her father had come to some acceptance of his loss, and was being distracted by being useful. Some people in terrible distress were going to be saved. Beth was proud of her father. No-one else could do the things he did. But she went herself to look at her mother's grave. Kevin had worked hard, with magic, and with his hands, and it now looked an established part of the garden. Her mother would be pleased to have such a lovely area as her own, and the ten year old girl stood proudly. Luna had done her best to look after Harry. Now she would do the same. But she wondered how she would continue to hold onto her strength now that no feeling of joyousness would fill the house at night to fortify her. That was gone.

The private aeroplane whisked the group to Austria. They were met by the Austrian Minister for Magic, as well as their Chief Auror. Harry was treated like royalty. He was confident that he would be able to help probably most of the victims. It had only happened the previous day, although a couple were a few days older. Those were the ones who were not aurors, just victims.

They were located actually in the Ministry building, and set themselves up in a large room. Harry was surrounded by the aurors, and people tried to peer around the large men as they passed. They all knew about the tragedy in the ranks of the aurors, and hoped that the legendary wizard could save them.

Harry was feeling very ordinary, shorter than usual without his shoes, and self-conscious. He tried to walk a little less stiffly, before rebuking himself. No shoes was hardly an issue, and his mind flew back to Luna. Luna never wore shoes, unless they were out. Even when she walked outside, she'd just as soon get her feet wet and muddy, as go to the trouble of putting on shoes. And he smiled sadly, remembering.

Seven of them! And there they were, lined up waiting for him, and again he apprehensively caressed his own jaw. Most of them seemed so bloody big! He asked Therese, "How good are you at mending broken jaws?" There were more big men all around, just like many of the aurors that always seemed to surround him.

Three ambulance teams waited, each with their own mediwizard. They were going all out to save their own.

Without delay, the first pumpkin-head was brought in. Sanaz, Jebedee and Anthony surrounded him, wands drawn. The Austrian Chief Auror stood with Mark, who had come too, and was protesting volubly. The English looked liked they were going to attack his men.

Harry explained that men went mad when imprisoned so suddenly, and that they usually came out raging. That often they had to be stunned to prevent them hurting somebody, usually himself.

"We'll tie their hands, then," said the Austrian.

_"No!"_ said Harry forcefully.

"Why not?"

They were all looking at him now, and he felt himself on the spot. After all, not everyone had his phobia about tied hands. "They're like in prison. They should not find themselves restrained the instant they get out!"

Mark intervened. He knew that this was just Harry. It was the obvious solution. Jebedee knew too. Just because Harry couldn't stand to be tied up didn't mean that it could never be used. They tied the hands of the first man.

Harry paced up and down the room. He felt horribly disturbed. Mark went to him, touching his arm. "Come on, Harry. It's the obvious solution, and we'll take them off as soon as he's all right."

Others were looking at him curiously. Harry took out his wand, and he wandered around the room, touching his wand to a few sharp edges, making them soft.

"Behind the desk," he said to Therese. "Be ready to duck if you need to." He returned to stand in front of the man. He was a little calmer now.

He made the slight effort, and he was inside the man's mind. In his disturbance about the bound hands, he had forgotten to shield himself, and wheeled away again, hunching his shoulders and holding his head. It was like he had been pounced on. But he shook his head, shielded himself, and tried again.

The man was frantic, and he worked at calming him, as he sought for the trigger point that would return him to normality. It happened suddenly, the monster melted into a man, raised his bound arms, and screamed. Harry used his wand to vanish the ropes. But the man went on screaming. The Austrian mediwizard took over, waving her wand, and the man abruptly calmed.

The next pumpkin-head was led in. They went to bind his wrists, but Harry said, "No. No more ropes," and he leaned against the wall, expression perfectly calm, and waited. They reasoned with him, argued with him, pleaded with him, but he only leaned against the wall, and stated that he would do nothing unless his patients had their hands free. "I'd rather be hit than have them scream like that!"

Harry won, of course. If Harry didn't cooperate, certainly no-one else could do the job. Harry went into the mind of the second victim, and this time, found the man calm and rational. He spoke to him, assuring him that he would be fixed in just a moment, that he just had to put up with his own mind in his mind, that he should stay calm.

This was a tough and disciplined man, an experienced auror, and when Harry went deeper into his mind to find the vital trigger point, the man forced himself to stay calm, not to resent the invasion. When this monster melted back into a man, he just breathed deeply, and thanked the English wizard who stood in front of him, looking rather battered around the edges.

Two more were the same, and Harry was relieved. This was going better than expected.

Another auror, another large man; and this one forgot what Harry had been telling him in his mind, seized the man in front of him by the throat, and tried to strangle him before three stunners hit him.

They gave Harry ten minutes to recover, and then the first civilian victim was brought in. It was a woman, probably young from the smoothness of flesh on neck, legs and arms, and Harry found it even more disturbing than usual. He touched her hand, it was only a few days ago, she should be there. He concentrated. He still had traces of bruising on his face from the night before, and now there was a bruised throat besides. He could feel the spell, but he searched and searched for the woman. Finally he turned to his helpers. "She's dead," he said, and tears were in his eyes. Death was so final. They led the vegetable out of the room.

The next victim was the last. Harry was getting very weary, and was unable to hold him calm, but he still rescued the man, and Sanaz was quick off the mark, and he was stunned before he could do more damage to Harry.

There were no chairs in the room, and Harry sank to the floor, his back to the wall. He was tired, and his throat hurt, and he made not the slightest objection when Therese started fussing over him. He remembered something, waved his wand again, and the softened edges of desk, table and window ledge became normal again. The Austrian was talking volubly, but Harry took no notice. It wasn't in English, and he was too tired to be bothered.

Six out of the seven rescued, and there was no point worrying about the other. Dead was dead.

A conference was going on, and Jebedee came to him, "Come on, Harry, time to get up."

Harry looked up wearily. He didn't want to move, but Jebedee extended an arm, and he allowed himself to be pulled up from the floor. He seemed to be more stiff and sore than ever.

They took him to a small sitting room, and Therese and the Austrian mediwizard were conferring. The aurors had gone off to celebrate with their Austrian colleagues, only Anthony waited with Harry. He rested his head back and closed his eyes, not bothering to object as Therese touched instruments to throat, and to arm. His weariness drifted into sleep, as most of his companions drifted into party mode. He wanted to go home, but he was too tired to apparate. He might as well be here as anywhere.

Beth checked on him from home, and recognised instantly that he slept. The dream images were all of Luna - Luna doing ordinary things. Just ordinary things. Nothing special, just there.

Anthony turned his head away from Harry, feeling as if he had spied on something very personal. Harry was looking so sad in his sleep, and tears were on his cheeks.

Three hours later, Anthony had been relieved by Jebedee, and Therese had checked him again, and still he had not woken. No-one else was in a hurry - the Austrian and English aurors were having a wonderful time together. They were the same sort of people, and when three of the aurors who had been afflicted were able to join them, there was some very loud rejoicing.

Harry finally opened his eyes to find Sanaz in his room. She was a beautiful girl, and he suddenly knew what he needed. It was nothing to do with Luna, or being unfaithful to her, and he would not make any suggestions to Sanaz.

Sanaz looked up as he stood, and checked his watch. "Have I been asleep all this time?" he asked.

Sanaz nodded, and wondered what he was looking in his wallet for.

Harry felt fine now, perfectly willing to apparate, and he'd remembered a French brothel. He hoped it was still there. Unfortunately, he had far too little money on him for that, and turned his mind to food, instead. He asked where the others were, and Sanaz suggested they go and join them.

Harry laughed when he came into the aurors' area. There were large men everywhere, English and Austrian, and they all seemed to be drunk. Mark and an Austrian were arm in arm, and singing. There was a young man and a young woman dancing on a table - they appeared to be doing a strip tease. Anthony was very close to another young woman snuggling on a couch, presumably conjured. He spotted Jebedee who seemed to be demonstrating some sort of a throat hold to an Austrian, who seemed even larger than himself. There didn't seem to be any problem communicating - there was shouting and laughter in both languages.

But there was food, too, and Harry made his way straight to the food. It was a long time since that lunch he'd bought at the bakery. He ate, and he watched, inconspicuous in a corner. He may have been the hero of the hour, but no-one aside from Sanaz even noticed he was there. But then he stretched. It didn't look like anyone was thinking of providing transport home, so he decided he'd just apparate. He supposed he'd better tell Mark he was going.

But then he thought of something better. It was after hours, and there must be a lot of unoccupied rooms in this place, and there were women, not many, but some. His eyes roamed as he leaned quietly against the wall in his corner. A woman looked at him, and he smiled, suddenly radiating an aura of pure sex.

Sanaz watched as a young woman left her group, and went straight over to him. "Hello," she said, "Are you with the English team?"

"That's right," said Harry. She told him her name, and then they wandered off together. Sanaz followed them, quietly, unobtrusively. Harry knew she was there, but took no notice.

It was an hour later when they returned, and Harry told Sanaz, who seemed to be the only one unaffected by alcohol, that he was going home.

Therese suddenly spotted him and hurried over, very giggly. "Don't go, Harry, You're not fit to apparate."

But Harry smiled slightly, and said that he thought he might be about the only one left that _was_ fit to apparate. He vanished before she could start fussing again.

Harry had come to some acceptance of his loss, but that didn't mean that he was happy. He was very, very lonely.

He talked to his horses the following day, finally hopping astride the nervous bay, to feel the gelding quivering beneath him. Even with the communication he had with his horses, somehow this one remained nervous, shying and trembling over nothing. It was not until Beth mounted that the horse settled down. It appeared that Beth could calm anything - except for other children...

A few days later, Chris and Peter Barnes turned up, and Harry's manager sighed. The youngsters were totally inexperienced city boys, they were muggles, and he had no need for any other staff in any case. But Harry was the boss, and Harry said that if they wanted a job, they should have it.

So Chris and Peter became workers on the estate, and learned to groom horses, repair fences and patrol borders. It wasn't long before they noticed that others of the workers had unusual ways of doing things, but Harry asked them to keep quiet about magic, and Bill Forrester told them if they blabbed they'd be in big trouble, and they quickly became accustomed to the odd things that happened around them now and then. It was a different life, but it was a long way better than they had had. They were given a fair-sized room each in the workers' quarters, and ate in the staff dining room. They were soon as loyal and useful employees as any on the place.

Wednesday, Harry was back at Hermione's doing his spell-breaking stint there. Anthony was rostered to be in the room, with Sanaz and Trevor on guard outside - more than usual as rumours had been circulating that someone was out to get Potter again.

There was quite a large list that day, as Harry had not done the job since a couple of weeks before Luna died. But they were all quick and easy, and it was not quite an hour later Harry was finished. Harry was still not wearing shoes, and Hermione suggested she have a look at his feet. Jodie, Therese and Hermione kept in contact, and Hermione knew that Harry had turned up very battered the day after the funeral, so was not surprised that his feet were still sore.

Anthony still leaned inconspicuously in the corner, as Hermione patted some lotion on the worst areas, and told him they'd be better soon. Once she was finished, Anthony told Harry that he was wanted at the Ministry. Something about his phrasing worried Harry, and he looked up frowning, "I'm not in trouble for something, am I?"

But Anthony had a half grin in his face, and said, "No, you're not in trouble," and only afterwards thought about why Harry's mind should immediately jump to trouble from the Ministry.

They apparated straight to the atrium of the Ministry, Harry and the three aurors. Harry was thinking that it was probably only that they wanted him to resume doing the overseas spell-breaking excursions, but he wasn't sure if he should leave Beth.

Beth was wishing that Harry would resume doing the trips, as Harry was difficult for her to be near, now. She felt she needed alternate weeks off. Harry carried such a load of pain with him, although he seldom showed it. She could offer comfort, and Harry tried to support her, too, in her own great loss. But Beth found that she had to work hard to shut off his pain from her consciousness. The skill she had learned in third world countries, where they had seen poverty and despair, was now used to protect herself from her own father.

Harry followed Trevor down the Ministry corridor without comment, Anthony and Sanaz behind. Trevor opened a door, ushering him in ahead, and there was a sudden shout and strangers were reaching for him. Kingsley had forgotten how quick Harry was. He had his wand out, and his back to the wall, before the Austrian aurors knew what was happening. They had only wanted to thank him, to pat his back and hug him if he permitted. It hadn't occurred to anyone that he might think he was under attack, and they retreated, looking at him in bafflement.

Harry looked at their confused faces, and at Kingsley and Mark, and others that he knew. He reddened, and put his wand away, apologising. More carefully, a large man approached, and he put out a hand, thanking Harry with dignity. But Harry could feel the emotion that the tough man didn't show. He was followed by others. Four of the aurors whom he had rescued were there, although one was still not at work - at home, but not yet ready to go out.

He hadn't been noticed at the party in Austria when he had finally appeared, and the woman who had shared pleasure with him only knew him as Harry. She hadn't related the attractive man she thought she had seduced, with the awe-inspiring great wizard himself, whom she envisaged as old and bearded. She had been teased dreadfully when word had spread, and there was a lot of quizzing about this other performance that would have had Harry blushing a lot more red if he'd known.

Kingsley and Mark watched, smiling, as Harry started to look more and more awkward. He was never comfortable being thanked, and was suddenly conscious that he was walking around without shoes still.

At length, Kingsley called for quiet, and the Austrian Minister for Magic made a speech, which Stan translated. Harry found the speech tedious. It was too long, that is, it was longer than three minutes, and he always hated speeches, and a speech that said how valuable he was and what a wonderful thing he had done, seemed even worse. Kingsley noticed that he kept looking at the window, as if he was thinking of escaping.

He was finally presented with some sort of honour, and he replied with a courteous few words, remembering to thank the Austrian Ministry for their hospitality, and his mind flew to a certain young woman. Several of the Austrian aurors thought of that, too, but Sanaz had kept his small adventure quiet among their own people.

It was a very high honour that Harry had been presented with, as Kingsley and Stan tried to impress on him. But he put it in his drawer and forgot about it. His Order of Merlin had been lost for over forty years.

On Beth's urging, Harry sent word to Chris Abbot that he could resume doing the spell-breaking sessions if required, and Chris started making arrangements. Beth told him that he was not to worry returning home at night, that she was perfectly all right without him. Harry felt her sincerity, but didn't quite comprehend her reasons. He knew she loved him, and did not feel as if he was rejected.

Beth occupied herself with Harry's horses, her cats and her snakes. She now rode the nervous bay frequently, and there was another horse that was no longer lame, that she had started riding. She didn't ride in the way her father did, though. For Beth, the horses went steadily. Bucking and twisting and galloping at full speed was not for plump Beth. She liked riding - it saved her from walking, and she enjoyed the communion with the minds of the horses.

Next year, Beth was supposed to be going to Hogwarts. She thought she would try it. She was a lot tougher than she had been, she could defend herself if needed, and she could block off the hatred she felt emanating from others. It was no longer a happiness to be at home.

Beth knew that Harry went with other women, but she was not like James had been. James had resented Harry's disloyalty to his first wife Ginny, after she had died. Beth didn't see it as disloyalty, and took it for granted.

Mark gave Harry four aurors again for his next trip. There were those rumours of death threats again, and also he thought that Harry might not be as easy to look after as he had been when married to Luna. He continued his previous practice, trying to expose him to as many of the aurors as possible. There were another two aurors with whom Harry had not worked before. Jebedee, Sanaz, Byron and Dean, Byron to be in the room with him as he worked, Jebedee in charge.

Therese was there again, of course, and annoyed Harry this time by wanting to do an examination at the end of the first day, even though it had been a perfectly easy day. His feet were finally better, but again she found that he was too thin, and his energy levels remained low. The LV was still down a touch from his normal, too.

That evening at dinner, Jebedee noticed that Harry's eyes were following Sanaz, and he resolved to have a word with Mark. Like Mark, he did not think it a good idea for Harry to attempt to bed his bodyguards. But Harry made no move, and only went to his room early, before disapparating from within. He found himself a bit listless these days, and was lazy. The brothel was finding him a good customer again.

The week went smoothly, there were a few times when he needed to exert a little effort, and he realised himself that his power was down. Those ones should not have needed any extra effort. Therese continued to check him more frequently than he thought necessary, until he threw a tantrum, and told her to keep her blasted monitor to himself, and then slipped his bodyguards and walked hard and fast through the city.

They were relieved when he returned. It was less than a month since he had lost his wife, and he was cross again when his companions were so understanding.

On Wednesday back in London, there was a client for him called Bob Pickering. He was difficult, but he very much needed to be cured. It was another of those unpleasant and painful skin conditions, that sometimes needed a lot of effort. And this time, Harry tried the telepathic method of curing first, but was thrown out of Pickering's mind with such force that he held his head for a moment, feeling dizzy. He hated to think how he would have felt if he had not tried to shield his mind. But after that, he sent the man to wait for a bit while he finished the other patients. And then he just rested a few minutes, accepting the sweet biscuits that Hermione offered him.

A woman called Beryl was the Ministry Observer, and this was her first time. Harry was staring at the wall, only half hearing as Hermione explained to the woman as best she could, how strong magic in the air could be very frightening. Hermione went and explained to Pickering, too, waiting in the waiting room. The receptionist, listening, was glad that she didn't have to be present.

Harry was staring at the wall, an expression of such sadness on his face that it hurt Hermione. "Ready, Harry?" she asked.

He looked blankly at her a moment. "Oh, yes, Pickering. Yes I'm ready."

He took his place in front of Pickering, and raised his wand. Beryl was daunted and impressed, but as Harry had feared, he didn't have the power that he was accustomed to, and had to allow his magic to die down without any result. He apologised to his patient, and said that he should come back when called, that he would be able to do better in a few weeks maybe.

Hermione and Beryl were both listening closely. Harry had definitely implied that he was not fully fit. He was too tired to apparate, although he thought that he'd be better in a while, and he asked Hermione if she minded if he rested at her rooms for a bit.

"Of course," said Hermione, who had every intention of forbidding him to apparate in any case.

"Thank you, Beryl" said Harry in an unmistakable dismissal, and Beryl left the room, but had her inconspicuous eavesdropping device in place as she waited in the waiting room.

Without comment, Hermione was quietly getting out her monitor. Harry was just sitting in one of the comfortable easychairs that he often conjured for himself, wherever he was, head back, eyes closed. But when she asked in a matter of fact way for Harry should roll up his shirt sleeve, he refused. "You were saying that you could do better in a few weeks? Are you sick?"

"I'm not sick, I'll be better in a while."

Hermione started casually to roll up his shirt sleeve herself, as Jodie was apt to do. He glared at her, but didn't try and stop her. She started to say something, but he rather briskly interrupted, saying that Beryl was probably listening in.

Beryl, sitting innocently in the waiting room, coolly took note, but didn't stop listening in.

"You're not yourself, are you, Harry?" Hermione said quietly.

Harry forgot entirely that there was a listener and said quietly, "What do you expect? I've just lost my wife! I can't get over that in a day!" And suddenly he was up, forgetting his fatigue, and pacing up and down the room. "For the second time!" and his voice was shaking. "First there was Ginny, and she was my life, and now there's Luna, and she was a part of me! Is it any wonder that I have not so much to give?" But his pacing slowed, and he sat back in his chair. He no longer revolted at the loss of his wife. He had accepted the fact, but he was sometimes overwhelmed by his bitter loneliness.

Hermione took her readings, now that he was staying still, and she opened her eyes. Therese didn't know that his normal LV reading was so high, but Hermione did. Harry was a very long way from his normal self. The energy level was very low, too. And now that he was still, and not objecting, she checked his weight, and a few other odds and ends as well.

"You should take a holiday," she suggested. Harry said wearily, "I don't think so, Hermione. They look after me terribly well, and I don't feel like a holiday. And anyhow, it's not like someone else can just do the job for me. There's an awful lot that are still no effort!"

Harry's relationship with his aurors was often contradictory. Mark was a friend, who cared very much for him, but he listened attentively to Beryl's report, with never a thought that maybe Harry was entitled to his privacy.

At the same time, while Harry had begun to treat the aurors as friends most of the time, if he wanted to slip the leash, he never hesitated. He had less freedom when he was with, or followed by an auror. And he didn't think a fight was fair if he ran no risk of being hurt!

***chapter end***


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Notes:__ Harry's Staff include Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, Jimmy Carr, Kevin, gardener. Chris & Peter Barnes. _

_Lucius Malfoy is the son of Draco, named after his grandfather. _

_Chapter 8:_

Waiting for Harry on his return was a letter arrived from Australia. Ben would like him to visit if possible. Harry held the letter, and thought about it. There was no hint that Ben urgently needed him, and no hint of illness. Harry decided that he and Beth would go straightaway, and he sent a note to the Ministry that he was going away for a time, and would resume his regular trips when he returned.

The arrangements that Chris had been making had to be all changed, but no-one blamed Harry. It's a bitter thing to lose a wife.

Harry and Beth took muggle transport to Brisbane, and although their passports had a charm on them, the man who checked Harry's passport told him Happy Birthday, and mentioned that he looked good for sixty-one. Thinking about it afterward, Harry adjusted his passport, dropping thirty years. There was no point asking too much of a charm.

It was always a problem getting to Ben's place, which was remote. Last time, they had hired a car, and Luna had driven, but Harry was an appalling driver, and Beth was too young. After a lot of thought, they apparated, planning to say that they'd hitchhiked, if asked. As it was, no-one queried them. Instead they were greeted with relief. Ben was wanting his old friend.

Harry found Ben sitting in a chair. He did not get up. Ben was two years younger than himself, and now wore the marks of never-ending pain on his face from the cancer. When Ben had been eighteen, himself just a couple of years older, they had galloped over the plains together. They had worked hard, and they had played even harder, often reckless of their own safety, and the days had been full of laughter. Now Ben's red hair was full of grey, and his freckled face was pale and drawn. He had the thin, frail body of advanced illness.

Ben looked at his wife, who immediately understood what was wanted, and she took the hand of Beth, and they left the room. Ben and Harry talked a while. Ben thought that Harry was not looking well himself, and Harry told him that he had recently lost his wife to cancer, and Ben's first question was answered. He hadn't really hoped, but maybe, if Harry really did have magic...

Outside the room, Ben's wife took Beth to show her the changes since they had been there last, the new foals, more kittens, and the cattle fattening nicely on deep green grass. There had been a lot of rain recently, the life-giving flooding rains that can make parched paddocks into something altogether different. She felt herself a little comforted, although Beth had done nothing but hold her hand. She would soon lose her husband, but she had known that for a long time. What hurt her most was to see him in such constant pain. The medicines were just not working well enough, or maybe the local doctor was not as skilled as he should have been.

Ben and Harry had fallen quiet, and Harry answered Ben's question that had been screaming at him since he had entered the room. "I can ease your pain, if you want," he said quietly, "And without making you dopey."

Ben looked at him with hope. "It just hurts so much, and never stops."

"It won't make you live longer," Harry warned. "Only stop the pain."

"Please, do it." said Ben, so Harry took out his wand, and used a spell that Hermione had taught him when Max was dying.

Ben took a deep breath, feeling the blessed pleasure of no pain. Harry left him alone, and Ben slept a deep and restful sleep, waking a lot later, feeling more alert and happier than he had been in a long time.

Harry needed to stay on hand until it was over for Ben. The spells for pain were effective, but they were short-lived, only lasting a day or so. Stronger spells were available, but drastically shortened the life of the patient, and Ben wasn't yet ready to die. He had been such a vigorous and active man that it was hard to give it up. He was not even sixty.

With the relief of pain, it was easier to talk to his wife, and Ben and his wife talked a lot in the next few weeks. The grown-up children visited, and Ben could now even see his grand-children without feeling so tired. Pain takes a great deal of energy.

Some wondered why on earth they bothered with guests at such a time, but Harry and Beth quietly took a lot of the work on their own shoulders, and still paid the normal guest rates to the wife, who accepted with gratitude. She didn't understand why Ben needed Harry, but whatever he wanted, at this stage, she would try and do for him.

Harry found plenty of time for himself, and apparation is a marvellous thing. He and Beth visited Melbourne, and made contact with the small wizarding community again. He said hello to Jack, the rather informal head of Australian wizardry, and discovered that his wife was Catherine Longbottom, a friend of his daughters, Margaret and Victoria.

The Australians knew who he was now, and he was bought more beers than he could possibly drink by a fellow called Stewart McRae, whom he had apparently cured a few months ago, although he had forgotten. There were so many. There were no others in Australia who needed curing, and Harry was confirmed in his opinion that they were more civilised here than they were in Europe. There always seemed to be people needing curing in Europe!

The nearest town to Ben's place was called Roma, and in Roma there was a widow called Michelle Hathaway. Michelle was quite young. Her husband had been killed on their property when a tree branch fell on him. She now lived in town, on the proceeds of the sale of the property, and worked at a newsagent. Harry visited her often for the month he spent with Ben and his family. He rode a big stock horse that had been the favoured mount of Ben not so long ago. This time, he remembered not to romp on the horse. It must not be spoiled for other riders.

Ben became weaker, and slowly came to a full realisation and acceptance that he was to die. Harry was in no hurry to leave. He would stay as long as he was wanted. Oddly, it was helping himself, too. The loss of Luna no longer cut as acutely into the fibre of his being. It seemed he could go on living.

Beth went on doing what she did best, offering comfort with a touch of a hand. Mostly she was ignored by others around her. She was just a child. But one of the grown up children of Ben looked at her with hatred, a hatred that she would not have been able to explain herself.

At last came the day that Ben asked for the final favour, and Harry did it for him.

They stayed for the funeral, but then the oldest son came to stay, and it was made clear to Harry that it was time to leave.

Michelle Hathaway had always known that Harry was not a long-term prospect for love and marriage, but she had felt as young and happy with him as she had ever felt in her life. She took the card with contact details on it, and kept it carefully. But when she found herself pregnant with her first child, she married a man who worked at the bank, and they gave the child a loving home without reference to Harry Potter.

**x**

A day after Harry and Beth arrived home, he turned up at Hermione's place. He had been thinking about Bob Pickering. He hadn't been able to cure him a month ago. Could he now? And did that abnormally high LV reading actually mean something? Was it to do with the power he could call up? He didn't want to disappoint the man by making another attempt, and failing.

They talked a while - Ron and Hermione liked to hear about his travels, and they were interested in the way the Australians managed their affairs. The equivalent of the much respected Minister for Magic was a bloke in the pub drinking beer, and he was married to a daughter of Neville Longbottom. And they didn't believe in putting spells on each other. If they had a fight, it was a muggle fist fight, and he said to Hermione, laughing, "See? It's not barbaric after all! They agree with me. Much better than hurling spells!"

Hermione, who invariably gave him lectures when she saw traces of a muggle fight, laughed, but said that it was still barbaric!

In the end, and as he knew she would, Hermione asked Harry if she could have a look at him, and both Ron and Hermione stared at him open mouthed, when he agreed. "Do I have to go out of the room?" Ron asked.

Harry said firmly, "Yes," but Hermione took him into a different room instead.

Hermione didn't want him to change his mind, and did some vital readings first, and went on to other things after, still expecting him to abruptly lose patience. But Harry only waited, and did exactly as she asked. She finally finished, and was noting down some figures. "Well?" He never asked about her findings, but without showing her surprise, she gave him a full rundown on everything she had found. He waited quietly, listening.

At last she got to her Nisco readings. Energy was fine again, LV 120.

"What am I normally?" he asked.

"It seems to be 127, I've found that a few times," and suddenly reverting to a more biting tone, "Those rare times you allow me to take a reading."

But Harry interrupted with a laugh, "Or those times you sneak a reading whether I agree or not!"

Hermione didn't show any embarrassment, only repeating that the reading of 127 appeared to be normal for him.

Harry slipped on his shirt, and finally told her why he was so unusually docile. "Do you remember Bob Pickering? I want to have another go, but I think I'll leave it until the reading is higher. I think it's related to my ability to do magic."

"It can't be, Harry! You've been nearly dead, and still could do more powerful magic than anyone else."

Harry shrugged. "Sometimes it's harder," and Hermione told him again, as she frequently did, that he had to eat better, he was still too thin. Harry took no notice of this, he was always thin, he thought, and what he ate didn't seem to have much to do with it.

Hermione thought it might be time to raise the issue of his lack of ageing, but when she started to mention it, he brushed her off. "People are trying to kill me again. I think I've done miraculously well to get as old as I have. I'm not going to worry about the future!"

The following day he went into his gym for some muscle-stretching exercise. He always enjoyed his time here, and used it nearly every day when he was home. To his surprise he found the Barnes brothers there. His employees had permission to be here, there was an external door especially for their use, but it had very rarely been used by anyone but himself.

It was a companionable time. He liked Chris and Peter, they were happy-go-lucky boys, and didn't treat him with the exaggerated respect he sometimes found from new employees. Maybe it was because they had commenced the acquaintance with a fist fight, which does rather tend to break the ice! Harry wondered if he ever would have been pestered by that gang if he hadn't been begging for a fight. Chris and Peter may have been unemployed and young - they were not thugs.

Chris was using the punching bag, and wearing boxing gloves, which Harry never did. He said, pausing between blows, "You're pretty rich, aren't you?"

Harry answered, "Yeah, pretty rich, I think. There's always enough money, anyway."

"Enough for a swimming pool?"

"I don't know. I'll ask Margaret. What were you thinking?"

Chris abandoned the punching bag, undid his gloves, with his brother's help, and started enthusiastically declaiming the virtues of a large indoor swimming pool.

Harry listened, and said, "Come into my office," and Chris and Peter followed him, as he led the way through the internal door into the house.

Chris was the talker, and sketched out plans, and told him what a benefit it would be. It would have to be heated, of course. This was England, and the North of England, at that.

"How much do you reckon?" and Chris even had an approximate figure.

"Stay there," Harry said, and vanished into a room a little further away.

Chris and Peter looked at each other, grinning. This was looking good. But Harry liked swimming, and thought that he would very much like his own swimming pool. It could be like the gym, open to his employees. After all, it would be a bit selfish to keep it just for himself, and anyway, he was so often away.

Margaret answered his question in the affirmative. Yes, he had enough money to put in a pool, and he returned to his young friends.

"Where exactly?" he asked, and Chris led him outside again, and mapped out the area that he had obviously thought about.

"Kevin won't like it," observed Harry, looking at the beautifully laid out vegetable garden that Chris and Peter were casually willing to sacrifice. It was a good place, though, and Harry was now as keen as either of the youngsters.

Still, he gave no firm answers, and just said that he'd talk to Bill and Kevin. Chris reckoned they'd get their pool.

On Harry's suggestion, Bill allowed Chris to do almost all of the organisation, and the builders moved in to put a large heated indoor swimming pool adjacent to, and open to the gymnasium, and with an external door for the use of the employees, as well as an internal door for the use of the family. Kevin moved his vegetable garden, and started planning a fernery to go into a decorative area just next to the pool.

**x**

Monday, Harry apparated into the Ministry building to visit Chris Abbot, but was surprised to find someone else entirely in his office. He had casually knocked and entered, and found an unknown woman there instead of Chris. She looked at him coldly, and he excused himself, saying that he'd been looking for Chris.

She said in freezing tones, "In Muggle Affairs. He's been promoted."

Harry was looking at her with some puzzlement on his face. He didn't think he'd earned such rudeness. But he shrugged and took himself off, finding Chris in Muggle Affairs, and causing a stir the moment he was recognised.

A half hour later, when Kingsley came to find him, he was sitting on a desk, and talking about Australian wizardry, a footy game, and Jack in his pub. There was not much work being done.

Kingsley watched him, smiling, as the workers gradually hushed, seeing the awe-inspiring figure of the Minister for Magic watching, until Harry finally looked up.

"Kingsley," he greeted him, slipping off the desk, and crossing to his friend.

"Finished here?" asked Kingsley.

"I only came to tell Chris I was back, but he says he doesn't do that any more."

"No, her name is Sandra Darke, but she was put in the same office, so you'll be able to find her all right. I'll introduce you." And Harry went with Kingsley back to Chris's office that was now Sandra's office.

Harry was amused at her change of attitude when she knew who he was, but not very pleased. He didn't think that he liked Miss Darke very much. But still, he indicated that he was back, and ready to do more overseas stints if required. Miss Darke fawned over him, to his considerable annoyance, but it didn't stop him asking to be next to the beach whenever possible.

Kingsley walked beck with him to the atrium from where he would disapparate, and maybe the old conditioning was finally getting weaker, because when the blast of music attacked him, he was not physically sick, although he flung himself around, wand in hand, looking for the enemy.

Kingsley was furious, and he, too, had his wand in hand, as he found the source of the noise, and stopped it.

Harry was white-faced and trembling, although it was over ten years ago that he'd been tortured to the sound of that music. He scanned the frightened faces of the people around, but he thought that the culprit had gone.

Kingsley took him back to his office, to give him a chance to recover before he apparated, and reluctantly, Kingsley told Harry that various embarrassing films were circulating again - there was even a choice of format, video or DVD. Harry put on a surface calm and asked just which ones, and Kingsley had to tell him that it was the full video of his captivity, plus the film of the killings, and the pornographic one, partly of Harry when unconscious, and partly acted, was also very wide-spread.

Harry said wryly, "Well, at least if the one where I killed is around, no-one's likely to have another go!"

Kingsley nodded, and said rather dryly, "It would be quite a deterrent, I'd imagine!" Those deaths had been chilling!

Harry was staring into the distance. "They'll never let it be forgotten, will they?"

Kingsley said, "It's not all bad. There's a lot of admiration for the way you continued to fight, and especially when you escaped."

But Harry could only think of the whole episode as horridly, incredibly humiliating. It was another hurt he kept buried, and instead, he said to Kingsley, as he'd said before, "I was very lucky that it was you in charge - and Amelia was exceptionally generous."

There was a knock on the door, where Mark and another auror firmly held a couple of youths. Harry regarded them quite calmly, but Kingsley was very angry indeed. The youngsters were looking apprehensively at Harry Potter, the great wizard who had been so obviously frightened, even if he had not been sick in front of everyone, as they had hoped.

"What will I do with them, Harry?" asked Kingsley.

But Harry said, "No idea," and said a brief good-bye, as he headed again to the atrium, erecting his cool facade, as a large number of employees, who should have been working, stared at him.

**x**

Zack, Byron, Craig, Anthony and Therese. They were smoothly whisked off to Spain this time, and Harry was ready to enjoy himself. It was time to throw off his bleakness, and have fun, so he was especially pleased to see Anthony. Craig wasn't very old, either. They saw that Harry was still thin, but he looked somehow a lot more alive than he had seemed for a while.

Sandra Darke had worked to please, and their hotel was first class, and right on the beach. The first thing that Harry did was to appear in swimmers, ready for a swim before lunch, and the afternoon's list of clients. Therese looked at him carefully, trying to measure by eye whether he was still too thin, and how much too thin. She had been too many times briskly rebuffed when she had wanted to make routine examinations; she had to wait for a good excuse.

It looked like Spain was planning to provide a good excuse - the selection of patients the first day appeared calculated to exhaust poor Harry. They all seemed to have been patients that had been in institutions for decades.

But Harry was careful, and used his telepathic method for two patients, who didn't appear to resent it, and was lucky to only need a short period of some power for another, after a fist flying at him gave him the impression that this man did resent it. The rest were easy, even when the spells were old, and he refused when Therese suggested that he be checked. This was the first time that she had felt the strong magic that he could produce, and she thought that he had to be tired.

But Harry's eyes were quietly gleaming at dinner, as he asked who was rostered on duty for the evening. Zack was looking at him with misgiving, but named Byron and Craig. Harry casually announced that he was going out that evening, alone, and that Byron and Craig could have the evening off.

"Now Harry, you know there's death threats again."

Harry shrugged, "I'm pretty safe when no-one knows where I am," and added, "Actually, I wanted to talk about that - do you think that the Ministry could use some influence, and only have it reported where we're working after we've left?"

Zack said, "I'll note it," and tried to persuade him again to have an auror with him. "You like Anthony," he suggested. "Why don't you take Anthony."

Harry grinned at Anthony, "Yes, I like Anthony, and if he wasn't an auror, I'd be happy to have him with me - but aurors might interfere - and I don't like them reporting what I do, either." The aurors looked uncomfortable. They did indeed make regular reports.

They never knew exactly what he did that evening, but he came back in the early hours of the morning in high good humour. He had apparently lost his clothes and his glasses, and turned up in a brief pair of swimmers, his hair still wet. Zack, who was covering the nights, waited for him, and gave him a lecture, which he listened to patiently, before saying a casual goodnight.

_"And_ you've lost your wand!" said Zack, but Harry assured him that it was perfectly safe, "I left it in my room." He had spare glasses, too.

Byron and Craig had been sent to try and find him, but had given up, and were sitting drinking in a bar. How were they expected to find someone who could just disapparate in an instant? But they returned when signalled, and Zack gave them a lecture, too.

Harry was swimming again when they got up. Zack left dozing outside his door, although Harry assured him that he had walked past him and not disapparated. Byron and Craig nearly, but not quite, grinned at each other.

Zack was thoroughly pleased when Harry had to put all his energy into his patients that day. Maybe that would keep him quiet. When Harry stopped at a bakery and bought himself some extra food, his impression was confirmed. But he had recovered by the following day, and he was not present at breakfast, although he had considerately woken Zack on guard outside his door, at the crack of dawn, and told him he was going out.

Wednesday evening at dinner, Harry caused a stir by asking Zack how much trouble he'd be in if he returned a Death Curse to its originator and killed someone.

"What? Have you done that?"

"No, no, I just hit it to the ground," said Harry reassuringly. "I just wanted to know if I can get away with hitting it back - a killing or two is a very good deterrent. I think the current crop are just doing it for money, so surely they should be easy enough to put off!"

They wanted details, of course. He told them. "At the beach, where it's known I might be. He disapparated straight away, but I think I could have got him if I'd been game," and he went back to his original question, "So, how much trouble would I likely be in?"

Zack was cagey, and only said that it should teach him a lesson, he needed his bodyguards. Harry concluded that he'd best not kill anyone. It was not as if his record was clean, he was still a convicted criminal, even if his period of Probation was over and the suspended sentence lapsed.

Thursday, straight after work, Anthony suggested that they have a workout at a nearby gymnasium that he'd found, before a swim, and this time, there were a couple of Spanish aurors reinforcing their numbers. At dinner, they suggested that he and whoever he wanted with him, go to see a show. They could easily get tickets, they said.

Harry was leaning back in his chair, watching them with amusement. "Yes, all right, sounds good - whoever wants to come," he finally said, to their relief. And later, as he went to his room to change, he said to Zack that he was sorry to be such a trouble, that he was a bit restless these days... a rather unnecessary explanation to Zack, who'd been driven half demented trying to keep a check on his erratic charge. But Zack put out a hand and touched his shoulder. He was Harry, and Zack had a great deal of affection for Harry, and understood that he was still missing his wife.

It was a very polished performance at the show they went to that night. Harry and Anthony were together, while Byron and Craig kept a watch at a distance. But Harry forgot to take notice, and wore a bleak and lonely expression. That night he went for a long walk, but he disapparated from his room, and they never knew that he was gone.

Beth was checking up on him frequently. She knew that the wild fun he threw himself into was only a temporary alleviation of his misery. Harry was desperately lonely, still missing Luna. He had not looked at Luna's book, although Beth had. Harry resented that book. It had taken his wife away from him in those last precious months. Beth quietly put the five copies of the book away. He would come to it one day...

Beth herself was lonely. Her mother was gone, and her father was hard to be near, but Beth had been lonely for a long time. She was more different than even her parents comprehended. She was accustomed to it, consoling herself with her contact with animals. They liked her, even if few others did. She sometimes wondered if she would be so much despised if she had been attractive to others, as her cousins were. She knew that her difference was far more than her appearance, but attractive people are given a much greater tolerance. And Beth stared into the distance, too, and her eyes had tears.

Friday morning was routine, and Harry and the team returned straight after lunch.

**x**

Byron and Craig had always been friendly, but Byron was a fair bit older than Craig, and they had not been close. But that evening in Italy, when they were supposed to have been combing the city for Harry, had made a difference to their relationship, and Craig said he had a pair of videos he wanted to show Byron.

Friday evening, Byron and Craig watched again those films of Harry's captivity and the subsequent revenge that Harry had taken. They thought they were justified - they were aurors, and it was their job to look after the man - they should understand him. Many of the aurors were fascinated with Harry, quite separate from their frequent role as bodyguards for him.

Craig was surprised to learn that Byron had been one of Harry's guards at his trial. "How on earth did you keep him under control?"

"We never had him under control. He chose to stand trial, and Kingsley just told us to keep him from being bothered by others, and to put up a pretence that we were in charge, but not to even dream of trying to restrain him. Anti-disapparation charms don't work with him, and he could have disapparated any time he wanted - I don't know why he didn't. Fancy having everyone see that sort of thing!"

"Well, he's still free, and I guess he wouldn't have been if he'd just cleared out!"

Nearly all the aurors had seen those videos, and they were becoming more and more widespread everywhere else as well. It wasn't all bad, as Kingsley had said. Many who had crowed over the pornographic video were ashamed of themselves when they saw the full story.

Lucius Malfoy watched that other one often, that one where Harry was seen killing Smith-Burton, and he raised the promised reward for the death of Harry Potter, and increased his own bodyguard. He was sure that one day Harry would come looking for him.

After the trip to Spain, Harry returned home, expecting peace and quiet. He had forgotten the swimming pool. The noise of excavations and the disruption of building activities was not peaceful. He went out to the horses for a while. Beth joined him, and suggested a ride together. The horses were saddled and bridled, Kinship, and a formerly lame horse called Corio, and they cantered their horses to the village, and bought themselves ice-creams.

Harry told Beth a little of his work. Maybe one day Beth would be able to do the same, if she wanted.

Beth told him then that she had decided she wanted to go to Hogwarts. Harry was pleased, but said, "You'll tell me if you want to pull out, won't you? Don't leave it so long next time!"

Beth said calmly, "I'll tell you."

He pulled his daughter to him and gave her a hug. Beth was such a special person.

Harry and Beth spent Harry's week off at Sirius Black's place. Two of the house-elves looked after them. This house was no secret to the house-elves - part of their pleasure was to keep it clean and fresh in case Harry needed it. This time, they had the pleasure of cooking for Harry and his daughter, too. House-elves are odd creatures - their life and their pleasure was to cook and to clean, to serve their human family.

Beth didn't like this house. A lot of evil had happened here, but it was a long time ago, and their own home was currently very noisy, and strangers were there in numbers. Harry was showing her London, and on Wednesday, they would go to Diagon Alley, where Harry would work his cures at Hermione's rooms. Harry still wanted Beth out of sight as much as possible - at the moment, hardly anyone aside from his family even knew what she looked like. It was really lucky that her looks did not bring attention. It would have been impossible for Julia to remain unnoticed.

His children were all so different. The twins had looked like their mother, James looked like himself, but was not really very similar, Julia had been beautiful, and looked neither like her mother, nor like himself, and now there was Beth, who had a slight resemblance to her mother, although more in an occasional expression or gesture, than in looks, and none at all to himself, he thought.

The first couple of days in London, Harry and Beth explored muggle London, and Harry showed Beth how to use the underground, and the buses, and even one day called up the Knight Bus, so that she would know what it was all about. He was always conscious that things never stay the same, that one day they might be fugitives, or Beth might even be alone. She was still only ten.

They visited Hermione and Ron at their home on Monday evening, and Harry asked Hermione to call in Bob Pickering, and he'd have another go on Wednesday. She wanted to check with the Nisco monitor, but Harry said that it wasn't needed, that he thought he had as much power now as he ever would. He didn't object when she persisted, and confirmed that the reading was back up to 127.

On Wednesday, he and Beth apparated into Fred and George's place. He didn't want people to know that the child Beth was anything to do with Harry Potter.

There was the matter of a wand. Years before, he had picked one up in Paris for her, but a wand is better when it is matched properly to the owner, and he now gave Beth enough money to go herself to Ollivanders, and buy a wand. He suggested that, if possible, she not mention that she was his daughter.

He planned to organise Beth her own vault in Gringotts, as well. He was very conscious of the hatred that his daughter sometimes provoked. He was afraid that she would have a more hazardous life than his own. He thought that he had been lucky. There had been some difficult times, but almost always there were friends to help him through, sometimes friends that went to an enormous amount of trouble to try and ensure his welfare. But Beth had no friends, except for snakes, horses and cats.

While Beth bought herself a wand, Harry reported to Hermione's office. There was Beryl and another auror, introduced as Tom Sanders. Harry looked at Tom, and asked whether he was going to be inside or outside the office. He always held a grudge when aurors tried to arrest him, and Tom had tried to stun him when the former minister, John Daunt, had ordered his arrest. And today, a cure was going to demand utmost concentration.

Tom was not stupid, and very well remembered trying to arrest Harry Potter several years ago, after Harry had taken his drugged coffee. It hadn't worked quite like that, and he had only wound up accidentally stunning the senior auror, Charlie Mason, who had been furious with them all when he had revived. He glanced at Beryl, and said that he was to be outside. Beryl hesitated, and nodded.

Harry worked quickly and easily through Hermione's list, and then took a break, sitting beside his last patient, and sharing some of Hermione's biscuits with him. Hermione always kept some sweet biscuits on hand now.

Bob was a cousin of Stan Pickering, Bob told him, whom Harry had cured several years ago. He asked, "Do you think you can do it?"

"I don't know, but we've tried the other method, and you couldn't tolerate it. I'm as strong now as I'll ever be."

Harry was expecting to give all he had this day, and had even arranged with Fred and George for himself and Beth to stay the night if needed, and he rather expected it would be. Fred and George's shop was right next door, and he remembered to mention it to Hermione, just in case he put too much into the effort, and wound up on the floor. But he thought he knew where to stop now - he thought that every time.

Hermione had called her son, Ben, who was also a qualified mediwizard, working at St, Mungo's. Ben had managed to get some time off work and arrived just as Harry reminded Bob what he would experience, and warned him that it would be stronger this time. But he was just to stay still, it wouldn't actually hurt him.

Ben arrived, and Harry greeted him with pleasure. Ben had been only a teenager when he had seen him last, now he was in his early twenties. He looked so like Ron had looked when he was young, although Ron had become thin and stooped in the past years. Hermione asked if Ben could be present, and Ben was looking hopeful. Harry was agreeable, but asked Bob if it was all right with him. Bob was feeling rather nervous, and only nodded. Ben said that his mother had already told him what to expect, and Beryl had experienced it before, so there was no need for any more warnings.

So Harry stood and stretched, and said, "Bob?" and Bob followed him into the office.

Tom looked after them. He had seen Harry's distrust, and had swapped with Beryl because of it, but he was regretting it now. He wanted to see this!

Again the feeling of strong magic filled the air, discernibly more sustained and stronger than it had been before, when Harry had tried to cure this man. Bob was a brave man, and he stayed still, keeping himself under control, enduring.

Harry was at full strength now, but failed again. He didn't quite faint, although left feeling light headed, and looking very white. Bob was bitterly disappointed. There was no-one to go to when Harry Potter failed. Harry was sitting in his chair, head down over his knees, trying not to collapse. But when Hermione went to escort Bob out of the room, he looked up briefly and said that he was sorry. He always hated failing his patients, and he liked Bob.

He still leaned forward, head in hands, and Hermione put the biscuits down next to him. He took no notice, his head was still spinning. She looked at him consideringly. Beryl was watching him, too.

Ben still stood in his corner, observing, unobtrusive. It may have failed, but he felt privileged to have even watched the attempt. After a time, Harry sat back in his chair, leaning his head back. He saw Beryl still there, and thanked her for her help, in an obvious hint that she should leave. So Beryl nodded politely and left.

Hermione took her readings, tapped Harry on the shoulder, and silently showed him the results, aware that Beryl might be listening in. The LV was down, but not a great deal. He knew that he'd done this before - first the energy levels dropped very low, and if he tried hard enough, the LV levels dropped, too. It'd be right in a day or two.

He took a biscuit, conjured himself a cane, and rose to his feet. "I'll be at Fred and Georges if you want me for anything, and I'll almost certainly stay the night."

"We'll come over with you," said Hermione, and nodded to Ben, who came to his left side, while Hermione went to his right. Harry was still white, and swaying slightly, but the Joke Shop was only next door. Tom and Beryl went out the door first, taking up position. They knew there was a reward for his death, and even that it had been recently increased.

There was no Death Curse, as they left Hermione's door, instead there was a sudden blast of music. It was too much, and Harry Potter collapsed in a faint. Tom gave chase to some children, who fled, but laughing. What fun to make a famous wizard faint with just a piece of music. Ben was left beside Harry, and in his youth and strength, picked him up and carried him next door.

Harry was fine in a short while. But he did so hate to faint in public. He took it as more evidence that he was weak.

The following day, he thanked Fred and George, and discreetly met Beth at Gringotts, organising her own vault for her, transferring quite a lot of gold, and organising access to muggle money at various banks around the world for her, too. Harry possibly exaggerated the danger to Beth, because of her difference and her unusual talents. Beth had a great protection in her very ordinary looks. While people hated her sometimes, it was difficult for them

to think of her as powerful and potentially dangerous, as Harry was regarded.

***chapter end***


	9. Chapter 9

_Notes:__ The Lucius Malfoy mentioned is the son of Draco Malfoy, named after his grandfather. Harry's staff include: Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, and Jimmy Carr, stableman. Chris and Peter Barnes, new arrivals. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 9:_

More months passed. The swimming pool was completed, and Harry's home became more peaceful again. Chris was in charge of the pool, and kept it immaculate, the water always clear and tempting. It was used a lot by Harry, and by Chris and Pete, although by few others. Most of Harry's employees were much older than the boys he'd picked up in London, and, aside from Beth, there were no children left on the property.

Margaret Brown was still his secretary, and indispensable. She looked after his financial affairs, she organised wages, paid bills, and looked after his piles of correspondence, most of which he never looked at. She still looked at him with a disapproving air, especially if he showed up wearing a bruise from a muggle fight. She cared for him deeply, but thought he was not at all respectable.

Miss Brown shared a house with another woman in the local village not far away, and drove herself in every day. She had always refused any offer of a helper, although Harry wondered how she managed to do it all. Just the mail seemed to be a fulltime job.

One day he wandered into her office, to find her watching a TV screen, fast forwarding a video through it. It was the film of his captivity, and he recoiled, looking at her for an explanation. She flushed. "They arrive in the mail now and then - I just have to make sure that it's not something different." They were both acutely embarrassed, and Harry went off again forgetting what he had come for.

It still hurt. Knowing that so many people could watch what had happened to him, whenever they wanted, was a horrible embarrassment. He could have lived with the knowledge of the rape, especially as he had killed the rapist, but having everyone in his world know that it had occurred, and not only know, but watch it on film, was very difficult to endure. It wasn't just the rape, there were other things on the video that made him cringe. He had only seen it twice, once at Malfoy's place, and once at his trial. He didn't see the courage and the pathos - to him it was just a dreadful humiliation.

The overseas trips continued. Mark continued to work through his aurors, so that after a time, only a few of the women had not done this job, although they felt aggrieved. It was a favourite duty.

Harry continued erratic, sometimes getting into fights, sometimes merely discreetly apparating from his room for long walks, or trips to the brothel when he lacked the spirit to find someone locally. Once he sent a call for help from a muggle police station, but wizardry at the highest levels was very influential. Harry Potter had diplomatic immunity, but no-one was rash enough to tell Harry that. He never queried how he was quietly and efficiently abstracted from the muggle prison, and only continued with his work as usual the following day.

One week, they were back in France. Harry used the strong magic to cure a difficult patient, impatiently refused when Therese wanted to check him with her monitor, tackled a second difficult one a little later, cured him, and collapsed just as he was ushered out of the room. It was the first time for a long time. Tom carried him back to his room where he lay unconscious for the next two hours, before waking ravenously hungry.

Therese had kept a close watch as he recovered from the effort, and resolved not to be put off again when she thought that he should be checked. She reminded herself that she had the power to cancel the work if needed, and she thought she should use it more often. She used it then to postpone the following morning's work, ignoring Harry's claims to be perfectly recovered.

Harry Potter was working miracles, whether or not he treated it as routine. He was irreplaceable, and the team worked at looking after him as best they could, even when he made it very difficult. That day, with the morning's work cancelled, he was sitting with Tom and Eli, when Anthony returned with an ice-cream each, to Harry's surprise. It had become part of the legend, the great wizard who liked to eat ice-creams. Some of his aurors had dropped their self-consciousness about sitting out in public eating ice-creams. It didn't fit their image as big, tough men, but if Harry could do it, maybe they could too.

Eli had a Daily Prophet, and suddenly commented, "Lucius Malfoy's dead!"

Harry looked up surprised. "How?"

"Duelling. It was yesterday - witnesses, a fair duel, so no-one's charged."

Harry got up, stretching, "Well, that's good, no-one can blame me for that!"

Eli was puzzled, "Why should they blame you?"

Harry shrugged, and went off to his room to change. It was a bit cold, but he wanted a swim. Anthony hurried after him, quickly finishing his own ice-cream.

Eli questioned him a bit further at lunch, the others listening closely. And, unusually, he answered. "Lucius had a lot to do with that time I was kidnapped, and almost certainly is responsible for the reward offered for my death. It could have been thought that I would have reason for killing him myself, but somehow I didn't get around to doing anything, and your lot were watching me all day yesterday. I'm in the clear, and I reckon that I'm suddenly a lot safer. You could tell Mark, if you like, to drop or reduce the bodyguard now."

Eli was absent that afternoon, as he apparated back to London for a word with Mark. Harry was even safer from suspicion than he knew. He had actually been unconscious under Therese's eye, at the time Malfoy had been killed. They wondered why Harry had never mentioned his suspicions before, but Harry hadn't even thought of it. To him, the Ministry was a potential threat, even though he appeared to be currently on the best of terms with it.

Some of the Ministry aurors were annoyed. They'd been trying for months to track down the origin of that reward, with no success, and it looked like Harry Potter had known all along.

**x**

Late November, and plump Beth on fat Corio rode alone into the local village for an ice-cream. It was a Wednesday, and the local children should have been at school. But three twelve year old boys were having a day off. They stared at the girl, round, blunt face, mousy hair, looking a touch clumsy, and they started jeering and heckling. One of the boys was feeling a hatred, the others were just following his lead. But suddenly the leader looked past her, and turned and ran, after a moment followed by the other two, who kept looking back, confused.

Beth didn't go into the village again after that, and started wearing dark glasses again.

**x**

Wednesday afternoon. Harry's spell-breaking session went as quickly and easily as usual, and Hermione suggested they adjourn to a local pub. There had been no attempts to kill Harry since Lucius Malfoy had died, and Harry had dropped a lot of his habitual caution. But there had been several more instances of sudden blasts of music, and an occasion when he found he could not pass a muggle store because they were playing it, too, but that appeared to be just coincidence. He invariably reacted, usually but not always by being sick, which embarrassed him terribly. But the choice was to hide himself away, and he still refused to do that. He often surprised curious looks, too, and he would shudder as he thought of those films in circulation.

After some casual conversation, Hermione told him what she wanted to talk to him about. Bob Pickering was nagging. He wanted Harry to try again. Harry frowned at the reminder of this failure, and said that he had tried as hard as he could, he couldn't do better. Hermione reminded him that there was always the telepathic method - that Bob had been talking to his cousin Stan, and wanted him to try again that way.

Harry stared into the distance, absent-mindedly rubbing his temples, where it always seemed to hurt him when he did not shield himself adequately from his clients. It had been a total and immediate failure when he had tried that before with Bob. Bob was a very forceful man, and although Harry wasn't sure how he knew, he thought that Bob had little talent for magic. He would not be one of those people who could work the final cure himself, with only his guidance. People never attacked him if they wound up doing it themselves. That was how Stan had been cured. Stan and his wife now had four children.

'What do you think?" he asked Hermione.

"I think you could give it another go, Harry. Even if it doesn't work, it'll get him off my back. And besides, I'm sorry for him. He's over thirty, and still single. But who'll marry him like that?"

"Well, I'll try, but I won't push it. Put him on tomorrow or Friday, if you want, and let me know. I'm not doing anything particular."

Harry was quietly finishing his drink. Hermione was a very talented witch, and had now earned herself renown as a mediwizard. She was often consulted an as expert in her special field of diseases of the head and the mind, and had published several books. She had even done some writings on the unique condition that he had once suffered from, a sensitivity to spells as a result of a not quite successful Death Curse.

Harry had given his permission with the proviso that they only be published after his death. Harry never read any books on himself any more, not since the kidnap. This was a shame, he might have found himself more respected than he thought.

"I think I should try and teach someone else to do what I do," he said to her. "I think I can explain it better if I can tell them mind to mind, words never explain properly. I could try it with you, if you want, or Ben."

Hermione smiled at him. "You tried to teach me ages ago, remember, and I couldn't do anything."

"The thing is, some of them don't need much power. The telepathic cures - several of them have done it themselves. What that needs is someone with some telepathy, but they're pretty rare, I suspect. Maybe the bat-girl when she's older."

"Weren't you trying to keep your telepathic abilities quiet?"

"Well, I've got aurors watching me all the time - I think they'd have to be pretty stupid not to know by now what I was doing - and those Austrian pumpkin-heads I pulled out, they'd probably have told our mob in any case."

Hermione nodded, "I'm willing to try again, and I'm quite sure that Ben would. I'm not at all confident though."

"Well, if you do, how about coming on an overseas trip, if the Ministry agrees. You'll need more than just the half dozen you get here on a Wednesday." With frequent trips overseas, and old cases long gone, Hermione's list was routinely small.

As they left, a blast of music rocked Harry again, but he held himself under control, looked for the culprits, and used his wand to send fire racing toward them. This time they did not laugh as they ran.

Harry went to the Ministry, and asked about taking a couple of trainees. Kingsley was in favour, but Darke said that it was too late to organise it for the next week. Harry wasn't sure how soon Hermione and maybe Ben would be available, in any case. He suddenly thought that Hermione was going to put an awful cramp in his style - much more than the aurors. She disapproved of too many girlfriends, and she disapproved of muggle fights. Harry thought she might disapprove of fun!

Friday afternoon, Harry tried again with Bob. Sanaz was with them, and Tom in the outer room. Harry had suggested to Mark that surely it wasn't necessary to have aurors for just one case, but Mark ignored him. It had been laid down over thirty years ago that he must have a Ministry Observer when he worked his cures, and Mark didn't want to start making exceptions.

Bob tried hard to tolerate the invasion, and Harry went very, very slowly, but again, Bob revolted, and Harry quickly pulled himself away.

Bob was a strong man, but he sat down in Harry's chair afterward, lowered his head, and there were tears in his eyes. As Hermione suspected, he wanted to be able to have a wife and a family.

Harry conjured himself a chair, and sat down beside him. "Thank you, Sanaz," he said, and Sanaz left. Unusually, he asked Hermione too, if she could leave them alone for just a few minutes. She looked at him curiously, but went into the outer office, where she fixed herself a coffee.

"There's another way," he said to Bob, "But you'd hate it, and probably want to kill me."

Bob looked up, hope suddenly shining again.

Harry continued, "I could just force it through - but that really would be like a rape. People feel violated anyway, often, when I do this, though sometimes they don't worry at all. But for you - your whole being revolts when I even enter the surface of your mind. I'm quite sure that I couldn't tolerate it myself. But one can get over a rape. I've never tried to do this over total, conscious resistance, but I think I probably can..."

"Yes, anything!" said Bob.

Harry shook his head, "Don't decide now. Go home, think about it. It might be the cure is worse than the problem. If you do decide, we'd take your wand, unless you left it at home. I don't want to be cursed myself - and you might find yourself stunned on the floor when you take a swipe at me afterward. As I said, you'd hate it!" Harry stood up, "Think carefully. If you do want to go ahead, please don't kill me afterward. I have enough enemies."

Bob stood too. "Harry… Is it really so bad?"

"As I said, I've never done this against any real resistance, but people hate it anyway. I've never felt it myself of course - I think it could be terrible for you. It's up to you. If you want me to try, I will."

They left together, where Sanaz waited in the office. She had been trying to eavesdrop, but Hermione had kept talking to her, and she'd missed a lot of what was said.

The next week was Germany again, and another full five day week. Duelling was popular in Germany. But on the second day, voting papers arrived for them - some important changes to wizarding law were proposed. Eli was in charge that week, and distributed them at breakfast. Therese thoughtlessly asked Harry where his voting paper was. He calmly said that he didn't vote, and she suddenly looked down and flushed scarlet. Convicted criminals lose their vote for life.

Harry made no indication of embarrassment, but it was a reminder of a hurt. He was no longer a respectable citizen, and that evening, he again slipped his leash, and this time came home very bruised and with broken glasses. He'd won, he was still lightning fast, and two big German skinheads were also very bruised.

Monday, and he visited the Ministry building, starting to walk toward the aurors' office, but challenged by an officious clerk.

"You can't just go where you please!" he said indignantly, "You have to have an escort," and Harry heard his loud thought, not quite verbalised. _You're a convicted killer!_

Harry waited, showing no sign of feeling, while a clerk was called up to escort him to the aurors' offices, where they could not deny that he might have business. He might think that he paid a high penalty, but never in his life did he regret killing Smith-Burton, and his friend, Griff.

Mark now had the big office that had once belonged to Kingsley. It had a very large polished desk on it, with a burn stain that had been there for years. Harry wondered why they'd never fixed it.

They talked a while, mainly about how the trips were going. Harry had a special request this time, he wanted Sanaz for Wednesday, because she was so quick off the mark when he needed defending, and also somebody large, in case it became a fist fight. Mark stood up and said they could go and see right now if they wanted. He still liked to expose the aurors, especially the younger ones, to Harry. Mark was feeling his age, and was thinking more and more longingly of retirement.

Harry was limping, and had a bruised face again, but it was because of a fall from his horse this time, rather than a fight, as Mark assumed. The aurors greeted Harry with pleasure, and he was quickly surrounded. Mark stood back, feeling very pleased with himself. There were none left who had not worked with Harry, and nearly all of these became fond of him, seeming to care more for him the more he got himself into trouble.

Sanaz was pleased and flattered that she'd been especially requested, and Mark suggested Jebedee for the second auror requested. He allocated Eli to keep guard outside, it sounded like Harry was expecting trouble, although he didn't really explain why.

Wednesday, and Hermione had told Harry that she thought she'd prefer to try with some of her own patients rather than go to Europe for a week.

The first patient was an easy one, Harry thought, and the man waited patiently as Harry tried to explain to Hermione what was needed. The man really wanted the great wizard, Harry Potter, but mostly wanted to be relieved of his problems, and had made no objection when he was asked if he minded Healer Granger making an attempt first.

Hermione tried. Harry was feeling with all his senses. He could feel exactly what was needed, and where Hermione was not quite aiming the right way. He tried to explain verbally, and after a few more attempts, he said, "Listen in your head," and, as agreed, he sent his thoughts, trying to explain mind to mind, as he had said. But he had forgotten to shield himself, not thinking of defence when it was his dear friend, Hermione. Suddenly Hermione was feeling all the pain he kept buried, the old pain of losing Ginny, the more recent fierce pain of losing Luna, and the pain of being disgraced and humiliated.

She recoiled, "Oh, Harry!" she said, staring at him with tears in her face, and grief in her mind, and he flushed and apologised. She still stared, and went to him, putting her arms around him. He hugged her back, and said sorry again. Sanaz was staring, as was the patient. Harry quickly waved his wand, and the man was relieved of his horns, and a glance at Sanaz had him led out.

He took Hermione to her chair, behind the desk, and when Sanaz started to come back in, he briefly asked her to wait outside. They were having a break. Hermione was very distressed, sobbing now in his arms, sobbing because she had felt his pain.

Harry held her, and stroked her head. "It's all right," he kept telling her. "It's all right, things always get better," but it was a long time before she was ready to retreat behind her desk, and go on with the day's work.

Sanaz didn't quite know what had happened, but it would go in her report. She was leaning against the wall in the waiting room, Jebedee next to her. The room was full, six patients to go, most with one or two companions, plus Bob Pickering, who was alone.

Harry made no further attempt to teach Hermione to do what he did, and quickly worked through the next six patients, without problem.

As the last one left, he asked Sanaz to bring back Jebedee. He explained to them both, that this one might be like the pumpkin-heads. That their job was to stop him being clouted, without hurting Bob if possible. Bob was a friend. Harry didn't know how hard this was going to be - he'd never done it before. He didn't expect to fail. He'd now had four attempts at curing this man, he was determined that this time he would succeed.

He sat beside Bob for a moment, asking him again whether he had thought about it, whether he definitely wanted him to go ahead. Bob looked at him frankly, "This is the rest of my life that I'm trying for. Whatever you do, if you can fix me, I'll be very grateful."

There was no-one in the waiting room, aside from the receptionist, working on a report, and Harry spoke quietly, "Wand?"

"Left it at home." Harry nodded, and when he rose, Bob followed him into the room for the fifth time.

Jebedee wanted to search Bob when they entered, but Harry said to leave him alone, that his wand was at home. Jebedee tried to insist that he be searched, but Harry suddenly wore an air of command, and Jebedee yielded to his judgement.

Harry set up two chairs, facing each other. It was not going to be at all easy. He would have to keep Bob helpless, at the same time as he fought down resistance, preferably kept him calm, and do what he had to do. Bob was going to hate it, and his own spirit quailed. He would have to be strong and ruthless. He reminded himself that it was with Bob's full and knowing consent, and that Bob was fighting for the rest of his life.

He quietly asked, "Ready Bob?" and Bob nodded. But Harry took a moment first. This time he would have to guard himself very carefully indeed, and before he entered the mind of his patient, he carefully erected the best block he could, in order to guard himself from hurt.

And then, carefully, gently, he entered the surface of the mind of this man. He would avoid arousing resentment as long as he could, and he went slowly to begin with, but he was ready for the upsurge of rebellion that he had felt twice before from this man. He could feel that Bob was trying hard to allow him to do what he had to do, and he managed to get further than he had previously.

But then came that incredibly strong surge of resistance. This time, Harry was not pushed away, and instead Bob felt a paralysis clamp down on all his limbs. He had been rendered helpless, and now his violator pushed deeper and deeper into his mind, against all the fight he could muster.

Harry was staring, unseeing, to the side, and Hermione saw him start to sweat. Every step was a struggle. Bob was a strong and a forceful man, and now his whole being was convinced that he was under a horrible attack. Inch by inch, Harry overcame his resistance, keeping him helpless, so that he could not run or fight with anything other than his mind.

It was a much harder thing he was trying to do than Harry had anticipated. He found the trigger point, nudged it with his magic rather harder than usual, and started slowly to retreat, still keeping the man helpless, but utterly failing to make him calm. Harry was pale and trembling now, and Bob had started to tremble also, now white with a fury he was quite unable to contain. The watchers could see that his skin had become smooth, Harry had succeeded, but Sanaz and Jebedee were both ready with their wands. They remembered, though, what Harry had said - that they were only to intervene if essential - Bob was a friend!

Suddenly Bob was free, but Harry slipped to the floor in a faint. Bob leapt to his feet, quivering with an intense fury, looking around for his enemy. Jebedee and Sanaz were ready, and Hermione was talking to him, from her safe position behind the desk.

With lightning speed that took them by surprise, Bob grabbed Harry from the floor, lifted him and wrapped an arm around his neck, presumably to break it. Harry lay inert, and Bob suddenly swore furiously and flung the man from him, spinning on his heel and striding out. They breathed a sigh of relief, and Hermione came to Harry, who showed no sign of returning consciousness.

Outside, Bob walked and walked, striding hard and furiously, passers by, after one quick look at his face, giving him a wide berth.

Hermione had another little room to the side of her office, where there was a narrow bed, and Jebedee gently picked up Harry, and put him on the bed. He was all right, as Hermione already knew, although she took her readings. He never objected in this state.

Back home, Beth was feeling a considerable relief. She suspected that Harry did not fully realise what danger he had been in.

A while later, Harry blinked at the ceiling, and wondered what had happened. He put a hand to his left shoulder, which was very sore. Hermione had missed his broken collar bone, a result of being hurled forcefully against a desk. His throat was bruised again, too. He sat up carefully and painfully, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, but was dizzy, and would need his cane.

"Hermione?" he said, and she was there, appearing through the open door from her office. "Did he knock me out?"

"No, you fainted, but for a moment, it looked like he was going to break your neck!" she said in a matter of fact tone.

"Is he all right?" Harry asked.

"I guess so - he strode off in a fury, so we don't really know."

"He hated it - I knew he would! Do you think I should have done it?"

"Why don't you leave it a month, and ask him then? I can't tell you!"

Hermione still had red eyes, and Harry suddenly remembered that he had betrayed himself to her. But there was nothing he could do about that now, and she'd seen him naked before, so he only asked her to fix his shoulder, so that he could use his cane, which he knew he would need until he felt a little less dizzy.

Bob Pickering hid himself away for the next few days. He still felt an overwhelming fury, and was sure that if Harry had been in a state to resist at the time, he would have killed him. And he felt sick. As Harry had said he might, he felt as if he had been violated. He caressed his smooth face time and time again, trying to match the benefit of losing itchy rash and painful infected sores, against the sick feeling within him. It would be like a rape of the mind, Harry had warned him, and he hadn't really comprehended the horror that he would feel after that rape of the mind. He remembered something about Harry. Harry Potter had been raped, and Harry had said that one could get over a rape...

He made a few enquiries. It wasn't hard to get, and Bob watched a film of Harry Potter, helpless, tortured, raped. At the very first, sometimes, he felt a savage satisfaction. He watched that film time and again, and after a while, he began to see more in it than he had at the start. There was helplessness, and there was cruelty, and there was even an eroticism. And there was courage. Rendered apparently helpless, Harry had fought on. There had been a declaration of intent right at the start, that Docility Potions would be used: _...if things go the way I want, he will soon be enjoying the act as much as I do. _That had never happened. All the same, Harry Potter had been dragged through the dirt, and still held his head high. He had said that one could get over a rape...

Bob had a copy of the film when Harry had killed, too, they were usually sold as a pair, but this was not what interested him.

Four weeks after Bob was cured of his rash, his warts and his skin abscesses, he was again in Hermione's waiting room. Sanaz, on guard this day, was alert. She knew this man. But Harry had said he was a friend, and he was not looking crazed with fury. Bob recognised the beautiful young woman with the bright eyes, knew her to be an auror, and crossed to her when he had entered, saying quietly, "I left my wand at home. I just want to thank him."

Sanaz nodded, but never relaxed her vigilance.

Tom steered the last patient out the door, who was still trying to twist around, and pouring out his thanks, while Tom said soothingly, "Yes, yes, just send him a letter. He always answers if you just send him a letter..." And the patient was grabbed by family, laughing and kissing him in their joy and relief, and he was taken off for a celebration.

Bob stood, and Sanaz said quickly, "Wait there, I'll get him for you." A meaningful look got the alert attention of Tom, before Sanaz told Harry that Bob Pickering was there.

Harry stood, a remote look on his face for a moment as he felt for danger. There were no warning signals, and Sanaz went back into the waiting room. Tom had his wand in hand just in case. Harry followed. Bob was standing with dignity. He was conscious of the aurors and their readiness, but thought them justified. He had been very angry that day.

Harry Potter came to him. Bob didn't know how to start, and Harry asked quietly, "Is it all right?"

Bob nodded wordlessly, his rehearsed speeches forgotten. He put a hand up to his own smooth cheek, smiled, but tears came to his face. He nearly got himself stunned by Sanaz then, as he suddenly reached and hugged the man that stood in front of him. Harry Potter had worked so hard to cure him, had finally succeeded, and the day that he did, he had picked him up with the intention of breaking his neck.

They met several times after that, Harry and Bob. Bob thought that they had shared an experience, and after a few beers one day, Harry said something - that he hated having people know what had happened to him. That it was not so hard to get over a rape, but that such a public rape was an enduring humiliation.

Bob told him how he had managed to come to terms with his own experience, and he told him something else. That he should not be ashamed of that video. That there was a lot in it that was not at all shameful. That people did not watch it just to see his shame, that they also saw a great courage... Harry shook his head. He could not see it as anything other than horridly, incredibly shameful.

Bob's sincerity was obvious as he tried to hammer it home to Harry. He wanted to help Harry, as Harry had so much helped him. He insisted, again and again, that Harry himself should watch that video, not once, but many times, until he could see past the surface humiliations. Could he not see that he was still respected? Everyone knew what had happened to him, but how many treated him as if he was soiled?

Harry was quiet, looking at him. _No-one_ treated him as if he was soiled. It was like the circulation of this film had to a large extent wiped out the impression that the pornographic film had left. There was that music blasted at him now and then, but that was mostly just kids. Probably they hadn't even seen it - it was hardly children's viewing!

In the end, Harry took the videos pressed on him by Bob, took them to Sirius Black's place where he could have total privacy, and watched them again and again. At first, it only made him sick, and then more memories came back to him of that time. He had never tried to retrieve memories, preferring to leave it buried, but now some things came back. A desire to blast all those people around him, and a fear that they might not all be enemies. Overwhelming joy when he had thought he was free, and a desperate misery when he found himself back in their hands. And there had been pain. He never had the slightest memory of maiming Griff, and would never understand how he could have done that while totally unconscious.

It was when a grin crossed his face when he watched an exploring hand quickly retreat to the accompaniment of a yelp of pain that he realised that maybe Bob had been right. There was more in that film than just his shame. He didn't know how many times that he had watched it before he felt a first glimmer of pride in that very last scene. He had been actually under the Cruciatus Spell, that invariably has people helplessly screaming in agony, and he had looked up, and he had fought back. And he was not in the slightest bit sorry that he had taken a few fingers when he blasted the torturing wand to oblivion! It took many repetitions, and his nights for a time were again filled with nightmares, but it had been a worthwhile exercise.

Harry had long ago come to terms with the actual events that had happened, but it was only now that he started to come to terms with the fact that everyone _knew_ what had happened. This one of his hurts became less.

There was an odd result - the next time that Hermione managed to persuade him to take her readings, that unnaturally high LV reading had gone up from his previous normal of 127 to a new normal of 135.

***chapter end***


	10. Chapter 10

_Notes:__ Harry's children, Adam Bourne, stepson, Margaret, Victoria and James, children of Ginny, and Beth, daughter of Luna. _

_Harry's staff include:__ Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, Jimmy, who looks after the horses, Chris and Peter Barnes. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 10:_

A few weeks later, the team were in Italy. The work was mostly routine, although there had been a pumpkin-head on the Wednesday. It had happened two months before. The victim had been a young woman, and was accompanied by her mother. There was no inkling of why it had happened, although it was thought that she'd gone out on a date. The aurors were still investigating.

Pumpkin-heads were actually quite rare - there had been none since those ones in Austria. There was to be no happy ending. Harry took her hand, felt, searched, and pronounced her dead.

Friday morning, the last clients sat waiting, or stood in the case of one, who had not been able to sit for months, and business was proceeding as normal. Harry was busy with his patients, so the Italian Coordinator approached Zack, who was on guard in the waiting room. There was a special request, and Zack listened, and said that he'd ask Harry. That if any attempt were made to restore the dead pumpkin-head, it would be last of the day. He wasn't sure if Harry would do it. He'd been asked before, but just said that there was no point. That he couldn't do it, and would only knock himself out trying. But the pumpkin-head had been a young woman, a girl really, only nineteen, and the mother was heart-broken.

The mother begged him to do it. She had tears in her eyes, and she showed him a picture of an attractive and lively looking teenager. If her daughter was dead, she should be buried, and she could not be buried while she still walked. She took his hand, "Please make her human again."

Harry had never succeeded in bringing a pumpkin-head back by pure magic, and he understood now that it was probably because there was usually no-one to bring back. This woman was already dead, but how could a mother come to terms with a death that she didn't quite believe in?

"I don't know whether I can do it," he finally said, slowly. "I have to think."

She looked after him as he walked away, still clutching the hand of the thing that had been her daughter. The hand was unchanged, and she stroked it, tears in her eyes, avoiding looking at that horror that now sat on the shoulders of her daughter.

Harry Potter went outside and leaned against the wall. His expression was remote, and no-one spoke to him. He was thinking, staring into the distance, totally absorbed in his own thoughts. Whether he succeeded or not, he would knock himself out with this effort. He knew it. And what if he succeeded? What would come back? Would it be just be a dead woman, and how long had she been dead? Or could it be something more horrible?

Without warning, and forgetting totally about his bodyguards, or any potential danger to himself, he started towards some shops not far away. Craig and Byron flanked him, though he didn't seem to notice. Some Italian Aurors were on duty also. Still no-one spoke to him as he purchased some sweet rolls for himself. Harry was entirely forgetful of anyone else, but for a change he looked, totally and completely, the great wizard.

There was a table and chairs when he arrived back, especially conjured for the purpose. Harry sat at the table, not noticing that it had not been there a few minutes before. Some coffee appeared beside him, as he sat back at the table, eating the roll. He didn't even thank Anthony, who had thought of it, but automatically drank. Word had spread, he was going to attempt some difficult magic, and more Italian observers arrived, although holding back respectfully.

At length, he rose and went to the mother of the dead girl. "I will try, if you want," he said. "But if I can do it, I don't know what she will be like. It might be something awful."

Therese was listening closely, as was Zack, and the Italian Coordinator.

"I expect that if I can do it, it will just look like a dead woman, but she may have been dead a while. And I've never succeeded before. I don't know what could come back, and what it might be like. Are you sure you really want me to try?"

But the mother was sure. She could not just wait for her daughter to wither away. It was too terrible. Even dead, she wanted her daughter human. Harry touched her hand, gently. "Wait here, we'll come for your daughter in a few minutes." They were all watching him, except for those outside who needed to be alert for danger. Harry himself had obviously totally forgotten that he could be attacked.

Therese had felt his full power before, she should be all right. But additional people were there, watching. Zack and Anthony, too. He didn't want to waste his energy in arguments, so he asked Zack to try and get rid of as many as possible, and to warn them what they would feel if he stayed.

"I must not be interrupted," he said. "I don't know what would happen if I were interrupted in the middle of it," and he sat in his chair, looking into the distance, waiting, as Zack spoke to the Italians. There was a gabble of noise and objections. They all wanted to watch. Six Italians, plus two aurors and Therese. At length, Zack suggested that they stay close to the door, which would be left open, and then they could retreat quietly, without disturbing Harry.

Harry nodded to Therese, who brought in the pumpkin-head, hand in hand with her mother. Harry directed the mother to wait outside, touching her hand again, in a gesture of comfort, "Don't hope too much - I don't know whether I can do it."

He looked around the room, the door was open, so those who wanted to leave could do so. "Therese? Will you be all right?"

"I've seen it before," Therese said confidently. "I'll be fine."

Zack and Anthony waited, Harry glanced at them, but said nothing. If they both thought that they should be there, it was all right with him. Aurors were not easy to frighten, and if it was something horrible that he brought back, they would be able to handle it. It was a pity that Zack had not managed to persuade the Italians to leave, but they were not supposed to offend them. Everyone was quiet, expectant.

The monster stood in front of him. Once more, he said, "No interruptions," but he was looking at the pumpkin-head, and he said it quietly, already beginning to concentrate. He felt for the spell first. Words tell it very badly, but he was looking for what could be roughly visualised as a chink he could use as a lever. He found a starting point. His wand was in his hand, but he forgot to raise it. This power that he had was not dependant on a wand. There was a rustle in the room from the Italian observers, as a gentle tingling started to make itself felt.

For a little, it seemed to be just that, a gentle tingling. But after a while, there was more, something in the air that made the scalp crawl. The not-quite-sound intensified, and suddenly Therese put her hands to her head. It was hurting, but not quite. Zack and Anthony stayed still, pretending to be totally unruffled, but Italian observers were scuffling at the door to try and get out as quickly as possible. Harry just stood, an average size man, his wand still held in his hand, but down beside him. There was an expression of concentration on his face.

Only his own team now remained, and Therese was looking longingly at the door also. Harry still stood, holding the power that filled the room. Anthony was remembering a time when he had frightened a rude client with light effects and sounds, but this was true power, no actual sound, just something that felt like it should be sound. No actual light, but the air seemed to crackle with light.

For another ten minutes, Harry held the power, and was feeling a frustration. The spell _should_ break. He threw a bit more into the effort, and the feeling went up a notch further. Therese suddenly fainted, and Zack, too, now held his head, as Therese had been doing.

Harry began to tremble. It was the signal to stop. He would only collapse if he continued. Slowly, gently, the magic died from the air. Only the pumpkin-head stood quite unmoved, exactly the same as before the attempt was made.

Harry took a deep breath, and looked around the room. Where was everybody? He noticed Therese on the floor, and crossed swiftly to her side. But it was all right, she was already coming around. Zack and Anthony still stood together, not quite recovered. They were staring at him in awe. They had both felt his power before, but it had never been this strong.

Power or not, it hadn't worked, and Harry himself took the pumpkin-head and led it out of the room. He spoke to the mother, gently. He had failed. There was nothing further he could do.

He staggered then, and Craig came to his side. There was no sign of the Italians, and those who had been with him in the room were still not themselves. His wand was still in his hand, and he used it to conjure a cane. It helped him keep his balance. He was very tired, but he had not collapsed, and was only thinking longingly of lunch, as he sat himself in one of the chairs in the waiting room.

Back in the room where he had worked his magic, the three that remained had still not spoken a word, until finally Anthony shook his head and spoke for all of them. _"Shit!"_ he said.

Harry's words were just as profound. "When's lunch?" he asked Craig.

The following day, Mark looked at the report that had been prepared by Zack. He gathered up the thick folder on Harry Potter, concealed the name on the front cover, and took it to Kingsley. Together they spent the next few hours culling the file, ensuring there was no hint of the whereabouts of his home, taking out reference to his godfather, Sirius Black, which was a possible clue to his London house, removing reports of magic without the use of a wand, dropping hints of telepathic ability, and definitely dropping the report from Friday, of a power that could make heads hurt and a woman faint. They would not be there forever, and Harry's power was one that could make Ministry heads jealous. The file was a lot more slim afterward.

**x**

The demand for the overseas trips was becoming lighter, and often now they did only two or three day weeks, or combined destinations - a day at one place, and two more at another, for instance. They had three weeks in America - they didn't seem very civilised there at all, and there was a lot of work for Harry. But he wondered if their mediwizards were not very good. They all seemed very easy.

He was still restless, and he was having a lot of nightmares. Mark never reduced his guard, there were always four on the team, even though there seemed to be no specific threat. They were managing him a bit better now, at least in the daytime, mostly by using Anthony to suggest a certain vigorous activity to him, preferably something novel that would keep him occupied and hopefully wear him out sufficiently that he would not be up again in the night. He tried not to make too much trouble for them. Even though he had never wanted to be followed around, it was their job, and he mostly liked those people who surrounded him.

There were women, of course, although he generally managed to keep that aspect of his life private from the aurors. He hardly ever brought a woman back to his room, it didn't suit his notions of privacy. But he was getting bored with all this, and he suggested to Beth that they do some travelling again. Beth was agreeable, and he organised a month off, and they took themselves to Egypt. But it was too painful for him. For too long, it had been the three of them, and now there were just two. When after a few days, Beth said they should go home, they did so.

Beth still found him too hard to be close to. When he had nightmares, Beth would be woken, and she too would be shaking with their intensity. She began to look forward to going to Hogwarts. She did not expect to make any friends, she thought that aspect of life would be always closed to her, but she wondered how she would ever find a mate when she was grown. Would she always be alone?

At home, Harry played with Kinship, and petted and talked to his other horses. Tambo had become very poor, and had finally been put down, as had another of the old horses that he had bought. But out of the six horses he'd brought back from the sale, he had five left, all of them rideable, although Beth never took the nervous bay off the property. The best of them was Lockerbie, who had been a racehorse until he had broken down. He seemed perfectly fit again now though.

Beth and Harry rode on the moors sometimes, Beth astride a stocky spotted horse, that showed a surprising turn of speed, and Harry on Kinship or sometimes Lockerbie.

There were new neighbours, and Max's property was again used to breed horses. The new owner was called Nick, and he seemed to have more interest in his collection of fast and exotic cars than he did for his Arab stud. He was a wealthy and a goodlooking young man, but Harry did not find in him the friend he had had in Max. He got on well with his manager, though.

Nick had some beautiful horses, and when Kinship came into season, Harry organised a service from one of the stallions next door. He wanted to ride descendants of Sheba until he died. Sheba had been very precious to him.

He had not seen his cousin, Dudley, since Dudley had rebuked him for shaming the family, a copy of a pornographic video in hand. But Harry kept in touch with Dudley's daughter, Gemme, and one day came across Dudley at her home. Gemme had a new baby, and Dudley was nursing it with an expression of doting adoration on his face. Gemme's husband strolled in, wearing his wizard robes, and Harry looked quizzically at Dudley, who had once been terrified of anything to do with magic. But Dud didn't even appear to notice, and had been perfectly polite to Harry, too. It was another indication to him that the shameful consequences of a kidnapping were in the past.

**x**

Mary Abercrombie and Beth Potter met again at King's Cross, waiting for the Hogwarts Express. Beth was actually Mary's Aunt, the half-sister of her mother, though for convenience, they were referred to as 'cousins.' They looked at each other with reserve. They were very different, this pair, and that evening, 'Abercrombie, Mary,' was Sorted into Gryffindor, and, after a much longer delay than usual, 'Potter, Elizabeth,' was Sorted into Ravenclaw. Beth had tried to wear her dark glasses, but a stern senior professor had told her to take them off immediately.

In the dormitory that night, alliances and friendships were already being formed. But not by Beth. Without any obvious reason, she was looked at with distrust. They didn't even know that her father was the famous Harry Potter. No-one had spoken to her long enough to find out.

Beth was unmoved. She had developed the sort of emotional strength that few people know. Her father didn't have it. Harry was very good at appearing unmoved when he chose, but he had never been good at being unmoved.

**x**

In London, unknown to Harry, moves were being made behind the scenes. Bob Pickering and his cousin Stan were using all their force of personality in an endeavour they had set their minds to, they wanted to get a Pardon for Harry Potter. Harry had confided enough in Bob to know that he still felt his disgrace deeply. If it had been up to Kingsley, it would have happened long since, but a Pardon needed the support of the Wizemgamot, and not just a winning vote. It had to be all but unanimous. There could be only two dissenters. A Pardon was not given lightly.

No-one said anything to Harry. No-one expected the endeavour to succeed.

Other moves were made in an effort to protect him into the future. There were no qualified aurors left who had not worked with Harry, and now Mark rostered some trainees to be with him for a few trips, much to their excitement. Harry enjoyed their company. Most of the people he knew seemed so sober and grown-up. They'd forgotten how to play. But these eighteen and nineteen-year-old boys knew how to play.

Giving all the aurors a chance to know Harry seemed to have worked well, and now Kingsley decreed that each of the heads of department should experience a trip. But after Harry had been sternly disapproved of twice, by senior bureaucrats, he asked Kingsley to desist.

"I thought it was a good idea," said Kingsley.

But Harry said, "It may have worked with the aurors, but it's not working with these."

Kingsley cautiously asked, _"What's_ not working?"

"Well, isn't the idea to prove I'm harmless?"

Kingsley laughed, "I wouldn't say _harmless,_ exactly!"

"Well, whatever, it's not working. They think I'm irresponsible, and if I have to work a bit of stronger magic than usual, then they look at me like I'm an alien!"

But Kingsley was getting old, and the Minister for Magic usually came from one of the heads of departments. The next Minister could again make life difficult for Harry. After a casual chat with the two bureaucrats who had spent a week with Harry, Kingsley knew that he was right. Stern Madam Rutherford had denounced him for getting into a fight, and Beresford had spoken with considerable reserve about Harry's powers, just because he had needed to put some effort into a cure a couple of times.

After that, Kingsley ensured that Harry was invited to Ministry functions, and strongly encouraged him to attend. Harry complied, understanding that it was for his own future safety. Wearing dress robes, he could better present himself with dignity as a great wizard. There were still many of these senior bureaucrats who thought of him as potentially dangerous.

**x**

At Hogwarts, Beth was always alone. Academically, she was having not the slightest trouble, but by the third week, she was beginning to find herself jostled in the corridors and sometimes her possessions were scattered on the floor when she was not present.

Coolly, she thought about the problem, and when she felt a sly pinch on her arm, she whirled with a totally uncharacteristic speed, and had her wand out and threatening the culprit before the other could react. The dark haired girl stepped back in disbelief.

Beth said, narrowing her eyes and looking fierce, "My father is Harry Potter. My father has taught me to _fight!"_ She held her wand in that same threatening position, keeping a cold eye on her tormentors. "Anyone who bothers me will find themselves very sorry," and she pointed her wand at the floor, and a leaping fire suddenly appeared. Her fellow students ran.

Beth vanished the fire, and went about her business. She was never going to make friends that way, but she was not going to make friends in any case. For months after that, she was not bothered.

Meantime, Harry's grand-daughter, Mary Abercrombie, was already very popular, and was never seen except in the midst of a laughing group of friends.

Harry was more lonely then ever now that Beth was gone, and his play became more reckless.

He had tried again to teach Hermione to break spells, this time guarding his own self very carefully, so that only his instructions went to her, not his other thoughts and emotions. He had also tried with Ben, but neither of them made any progress at all.

Then he pulled out Luna's writing machine. He would write his own book on spell-breaking, and one day, there would be a witch or wizard who would find help when they needed it. But when he looked at the writing machine, suddenly his heart tore, and he left, walking automatically to the horse paddock. Kinship was in foal, so he called up Lockerbie, and raced as hard as he could across the moors, as he had done before when his emotions were too hard to bear.

He went back to it the day after. One day he would be dead, and there might be someone else who could do what he did. There should be a book that might help. He wrote what he did the best he could in words, and then he added magic. A person with telepathic skills would be able to read the words, but more, they would be able to comprehend what he was talking about when language was inadequate. He didn't know what to do with the book afterward. Hogwarts, with Smythe in charge, wouldn't want it, and the words did not explain what he wanted. It was a book that only a very rare person would want to read, and an even more rare person would be able to understand.

But still, he had the writing machine print out a few dozen copies, and gave a couple of Hermione. Maybe the St. Mungo's library might like one.

Hermione was concerned for Harry. It was over a year since Luna had died, and she started thinking that she should find him a new wife. She had known him a long time. His fifteen years with Ginny, and his eleven years with Luna had been marked with an air of contentment. He had loved them both very deeply. In his body and in his emotions, he was still vigorous and young, She thought he needed another wife. And completely accidentally, and out of sheer exasperation, she blurted it out to him one day, as he turned up at her office for patching up yet again. He looked at her in surprise, but only said that she was probably right.

As September and October passed, he stayed home. He wanted to be available if Beth found Hogwarts impossible for her. He would feel her briefly every night, she would visit him in his mind to say goodnight. But her letters were longer, and she told him to go away if he wanted, that she was fine, and even if she was not, she knew how to apparate, and could come home if she wanted. She should not have any trouble making her escape from Hogwarts if she needed to, either. Among her things were an Invisibility Cloak and a magical map that showed the castle complete with all its secret passages. Harry had never showed this to any of his other children, but none of his other children engendered hatred.

And then again, restlessly, he started travelling, calling off his overseas trips until further notice, and even his sessions with Hermione.

Not even really knowing what he wanted, he was looking for something. This time, he routinely made contact with the wizarding communities, and allowed himself to be feted and entertained by their governing bodies in countries all over the world. He did some spell-breaking when asked, but it was all so boring, now, and he didn't offer his services.

Every night, still, Beth made contact, and he was constantly awed by her telepathic powers, in a different order of magnitude to his own. He checked in at home every few weeks, but always with a thought to discretion. He still didn't want people to know that he could apparate continent to continent, with no trouble. And often when he had come from too far to be regarded as possible, he would only see Margaret and maybe his cook, and would ask them to stay quiet.

Quite often he would visit the French brothel that he favoured. Sometimes he was in countries where casual sex was very much frowned upon, and he preferred to go to where they hired girls who adored sex, rather than just goodlooking girls.

He spent some time in the Arab states. He'd meant to stay longer, but they seemed to have neither central organisation, nor any notion of civilised behaviour. He cured wizards afflicted with more ghastly spells than any he'd seen before, and had been casually told that many were just put down. A warrior could not be expected to live as a cripple, after all!

He came home for Christmas, and Beth joined him for the short break. She was secretive, and Harry was anxious, but Beth assured him that she was all right, and she opened her mind to him enough that he could believe her.

For a second time, Beth had needed to show her speed and power to her fellow students, so that she would not be molested, but now they left her strictly alone. Most of her teachers didn't like her, and doing her work well was not going to change that. Mostly, her teachers just didn't notice her. She was so plain, and looked so ordinary.

But Hogwarts itself was fascinating to her. It had such history. and she would sometimes go to an out of the way room, extend her senses, and just feel that history. And she loved the library.

The owlery was a favourite retreat in those first few months, she needed some friendly contact with living things. She thought about a pet, but a pet would complicate things if she needed to make a fast escape. Like her father, she sometimes thought of that. But then she started exploring the Forbidden Forest, and made contact with the centaurs. There was so much life in the forest.

Mary Abercrombie had a circle of close friends, and was often in trouble. Her antics were often a source of mirth in the staff room. Some remembered that her mother had been Margaret Potter, and stories were told again of the wild trio, Meg and Vicki Potter, and Gemme Dursley.

The clumsy fat girl with the mouse brown hair was never mentioned in the staff room, and her extraordinary intelligence not noticed. She made sure that her magic appeared ordinary. It was better that way. Those of the teachers who knew, soon forgot that her father was Harry Potter. She was mostly ignored by them all. Even Nick Bagshott, Harry's friend, and her House Master, didn't seem to notice her.

Beth was regarded with wariness by the students, but she never threatened them if she was left alone, and soon it became as if she was not there at all.

Harry spent a couple of months in England after Christmas, catching up with Hermione's list of patients, and offering his services at the Ministry for a four week stretch, doing every week if they wanted.

Stan accepted with gratitude. Harry Potter was unique, and he was theirs. His abilities brought enormous prestige to the Ministry, and to British wizardry. But now Harry was almost impossible to look after as Kingsley thought he should be looked after. He had warned Kingsley and Mark at the start - he was not in a mood to tolerate being followed, and had no intention of being docile. There appeared to be no current threat to his life, so they decided to just leave him go.

But Mark gave it some consideration, and gave Harry the same team for the four weeks, Zack, Eli, Anthony and Craig, and, of course, Therese. He was surrounded by friends, and Zack, in charge, found him easier to manage than Kingsley had warned him he was likely to be. When he went out by himself, he told them when he would probably be back, and would often be happy to join the others for the activities that they suggested. Zack thought that it could be a lot worse.

There were few difficult clients, and often, Harry would try his telepathic method first, and only if that failed, would he resort to the strong magic that was so impressive. To the relief of them all, it never again became so intense that they found themselves holding their heads, or fainting. There were no failures.

***chapter end***


	11. Chapter 11

_Notes:__ Harry's staff include Margaret Brown, secretary. John, general worker with nursing experience, Chris and Peter Barnes, general workers, (muggles.) __Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 11:_

Early in February, Harry Potter was off again. This time he went to Australia, where the wizarding community was so small, and far more integrated into muggle society than in most places. Nearly all of them lived in Melbourne, or not far away.

In a small town in Queensland, a baby boy was being raised. He had been named after his father, but bore the surname of his mother's husband, White. Harry White was to be an only child. His parents adored him.

Harry Potter was famous, and this time, Jack Mahoney remembered that there was a witch who had arrived back from England with a problem. She affected a turban, needing to hide her horns. But Harry casually waved his wand when introduced in the pub, and she felt under her turban, and hugged him.

But he was beginning to be restless again, and was thinking of the Pacific Islands. They had some powerful magic there... There was just one large party to go to first, and he thought he might leave straight after.

At the party, he was monopolised by Catherine Mahoney, daughter of his friend, Neville Longbottom. Harry was able to tell her a lot of what she wanted to know, how life had turned out for her friends.

He was still talking to her, sitting at his ease at a table, when he paused and looked up. Across the room stood a woman looking at him. She was dressed casually, but her clothes were done up slightly wrong, so that they didn't sit right, and she wore sneakers with black socks, looking odd under an ordinary muggle dress. She had dark blonde hair, and looked to be around forty years old.

"Who's that?" he asked Catherine.

She answered, "Heather Vaughan - she's a bit weird, no-one likes her much."

Harry still looked at the strange woman, and then he opened his mind, and felt her curiosity. "Excuse me," he told Catherine, and went across to Heather.

A little later, when Catherine looked for him, he was gone.

Sex with Heather was like dynamite. Their minds as well as their bodies were interlinked. Heather had never met anyone with any sort of telepathic ability. No-one had ever felt it when she explored their minds. She herself had never learned to shield, and Harry found her communication rushing over him. For the next few days, they played until exhaustion. Harry was beginning to think that he had found what he had been craving. He was no longer lonely.

Beth was filled with misgivings. The first time that Harry made love with Heather, the intensity of feeling and sensation was such that Beth had felt it even though she had not been thinking of her father, and was the other side of the world besides. But she had jumped and spilt the Potion sample she was taking to the Professor.

But something wasn't right.

Harry was no longer lonely. There was someone whom he could talk to even more closely than he had talked with Luna. And Heather had odd ideas, too, and was brilliantly intelligent, even if her dress sense was appalling. For weeks, Harry was ecstatically happy - almost. For something wasn't right.

Heather had led a very limited life. She had never had a true relationship, only some short-lived sexual relationships. Mostly, she was shunned by other people. She had never travelled, and rarely went to parties or other social gatherings. She had only gone to this one because she was intensely curious about the great wizard from England.

Heather was a true natural Telepath, the same as Beth. But Heather had never had any contact with any other Telepath, and not even any contact with anyone with the talents that Harry and Luna had. Other people never felt it when she prowled around in their minds. Beth had learned a certain discipline, almost automatically, simply by living with her parents, and did not go searching. But Heather had been deprived of a normal life, and, instead would prowl around in the memories of others, particularly those who had interesting and exciting lives. It was like reading a book, but with a lot less organisation, and infinitely more colour.

It took a while for Harry to know what she was doing. Her abilities far outstripped his relatively small talent, and at first, he had no comprehension of the full access that she had to his mind and to his memories. Even when Harry did his telepathic cures, it was a touch of magic that helped him find what he needed to do, and he did not wind up knowing a great deal about his patients. His patients mostly felt it, too, which was the source of their resentment. His invasion was like a blunt instrument compared to a subtle, pervasive mist.

He started having bad dreams, not the nightmares he had had for so long, and now assumed that he would always have, but something different. Now he rarely slept peacefully. His dreams were always vague, often little more than an uneasy discomfort, and a sick feeling as he slept.

It took nearly four weeks, but one early morning as he was just waking, he felt her as she examined his memory of the bitter humiliation of his trial. He jerked over in the bed, putting a hand across his face defensively, but also slamming her out of his mind, in a skill suddenly discovered when needed. That was private!

Heather recoiled, looking at him, and holding her hand to her temple. Tears stood in her eyes. She had been harshly rejected, and had no understanding that she should not have been prying. With her total openness to him, Harry felt her sudden acute misery at the rejection, and took her in his arms. He kept a guard up, though, as he did when he protected himself against his patients sometimes.

Heather had been totally, ecstatically happy, without any reservations whatever. Her mind had never been explored by another, she had no conception that what she did so easily and naturally, could be highly offensive. She had never before been detected, and had always practised this ability which she had never regarded as anything in the slightest bit wrong.

But now this wonderful, interesting and exciting man had closed his mind to her. She felt a bitter grief, so much so that he cautiously let down his guard a little. He liked Heather, he thought that maybe he could love Heather. And she was radiating every feeling to him. It was what made the sex so explosive. But now he was alerted to what she was doing, he felt it all the time. He remembered his bitter loneliness, and tried to make it work with Heather, who was so nearly what he needed. As it was what she wanted, he offered some of his memories to her, and they explored them together.

Harry's telepathic skills increased enormously with contact with the Telepath, but more, she was somehow making a physical difference in him.

The memories he offered were not enough, and Heather was bitterly hurt whenever he blocked her from private hurts and from private feelings. He did not want to share the private moments with Luna and with Ginny, and he hated that she should feel an excitement when she found a memory of sodomy. He was not even sure if it was a true memory, or just the image on a video film, but when she saw it, he did too, and to his feelings of humiliation and hate at what had been done to him was now added a feeling of excitement that came purely from Heather. For highly sexual people like Heather are not always discriminating in what they find exciting.

Harry was becoming more and more nervous, and was finding himself trembling at nothing. There was an excitement in his body, that had less and less to do with sex, and more and more to do with illness. He could not tolerate Heather's invasion of his mind, and he hated her bitter grief at his rejection when he tried to shut her out.

Beth tried and tried to contact him, to tell him to flee. He was being destroyed. But his mind was filled with Heather, and he didn't even miss the routine small goodnight contact that she had formerly made.

But one night, in the middle of the night, he was abruptly awake. His mind was filled with an almost forgotten memory of seeing his mother and his father, and a great black dog, as he lay dying. Heather had been exploring again, but now she lay asleep beside him. Harry dressed very quietly, picked up a small kitbag, that contained his wand, his passport, and little else, forgot his wallet, and fled.

He apparated straight into his home. He was trembling again, as he had been doing so often just lately. He worried about Heather, it was not her fault, and yet he had left her without a word. But when he thought of returning to explain, he experienced the same sort of danger signal that had warned him previously of poisoned drinks and imminent Death Curses. And before he did anything else, he sent her a letter, but it was brief. He could not explain why there was such a need to flee.

**x**

Harry was unable to rest. He was trembling again, and felt an acute need for exercise. He went to the swimming pool, swimming up and down the pool, up and down until near exhaustion. He pulled himself from the water, and collapsed for a little. But his legs needed to be moving, and he apparated to London, with never a thought that he was in no state to apparate.

He walked the streets of London, as he had before, at one stage, standing trembling in front of a small dark man who threatened him with a knife. But in spite of a quivering weakness, he was lightning fast, and took the knife out of the man's hand with ridiculous ease.

With the time difference, it was not yet midnight in London.

Beth was acutely worried. Her father was in a bad way. She was trying still to contact him. _Go to Hermione!_ she was telling him, _Go to Hermione!_

But again he walked, until his legs shivered with weakness. And then he lay down in his inadequate clothing, and went to sleep in a park. Somehow the cold helped. He was woken by the early morning council workers who routinely gave the derelicts a nudge and told them to move on...

Heather Vaughan was left alone, and thought she might die. There would never be anyone for her.

She didn't die. She surrounded herself with cats, and lived to old age, always odd, always regarded as something different and unlikable. Her short-lived adventure with Harry Potter was the nearest she ever came to a fulfilling life of her own.

Harry thought of something to eat, but had no money with him. After his swim, he had just put on jeans, and the same sort of shortsleeved casual shirt that he had been wearing in Australia. But it was March in London, and cold. He started walking again. He didn't know what was wrong, didn't know that he was sick, only knew that he needed to walk. He had been wearing sneakers, which rarely make blisters, but now sometimes there were traces of blood where he passed.

At eleven o'clock, Linda, Hermione's receptionist, suddenly saw him there, sitting quietly in the waiting room. He had done this before, coming to Hermione to be patched up after a fight or an accident caused by his reckless behaviour. Hermione saw her last two patients of the morning before sitting beside him, and asking what was wrong.

Harry had been sitting quietly, head down, half dazed, but now he looked up, and said, "Hermione, I've got myself in trouble, I think," and suddenly he was trembling again, his body shuddering with the strength of the tremors that shook him.

Automatically, she touched her hand to his forehead, but he was not feverish. It was obvious that he was very sick, and her loud thought was that he would have to go to St. Mungo's.

But Harry was alarmed, and stood, swaying. "Not St. Mungo's! The Ministry mustn't know! They'll lock me up!" He was swaying, but vehement, and the receptionist was listening.

Hermione glanced at her, and said, "Not a word to anyone." It sounded ridiculous that the Ministry might want to lock him up, but it had happened before... Not under Kingsley, though.

Beth, aware of her father from far away, was very relieved. Aunt Hermione would look after him. She was the best.

"Come into the office," Hermione said, and he took a step, before going down on his knee. He pulled himself to his feet again, and now he had a cane in his left hand, and limped after her.

Linda looked after him. He may have been the great and famous wizard, but he knew her by name, she had talked to him about her children, once he had been Professor Potter, and she had no intention of telling anyone that he was sick. Something on the floor caught her eye, and she cleaned the blood from where he had walked. There was a little near his chair, too.

Hermione sat Harry down, and felt his pulse. She could see that his shoes leaked blood, but left that for the moment. His pulse raced, he shuddered and trembled, and when she did the Nisco readings, they made no sense. She paused, thinking, and then went and poured him a potion. When he took it without even asking what it was, she knew he was very sick indeed.

The potion helped, and the trembling settled down. He was able to explain that somehow it had to do with exposure to a woman, he thought. She was a Telepath. He kept answering questions that Hermione had not yet spoken, not even realising what he was doing, and now Hermione thought he was right. The Ministry should not see this. She tried others of her instruments and gadgets. Some gave normal readings, some made no sense, and there were some where the readings raced up and down the scale, as if unable to decide where they should settle.

She went to Linda, and asked her to try and arrange a locum healer for the afternoon, maybe June Hopkins if available, or even her own son Ben. If not, the afternoon's work would have to be cancelled. When she returned, Harry was on his feet, pacing the floor, suddenly unable to be still again, and leaving more blood stains, which he apparently hadn't noticed. She got him back in the chair, and carefully took off his shoes. Luckily, his feet were not as bad as she had thought they must be.

She was wondering what to do with him. He would not go to St. Mungo's, and she thought he might be right. But there was something very badly wrong. She wanted him at his own place, but who was there left to take him? Ron no longer apparated, except for very routine short trips. Hermione still apparated, but would not take a passenger, and Ben had never learned to apparate with a passenger. There was no good asking help from the aurors, even if most of them were now his friends, as Harry refused to compromise the secrecy of his home. Harry was still sitting, his head lowered, his quivering quieted for the moment. Hermione was starting to think of muggle transport, maybe a car.

"When did you eat last?" she suddenly asked him. She thought for a moment he didn't hear, and was about to repeat her question, when he said, "Yesterday, I think, I was in Melbourne."

Hermione was surprised. Even she hadn't known that he could apparate direct from Australia to England. "Here, take these," she said, handing him a packet of biscuits.

He took one eagerly, suddenly ravenously hungry, but only ate half, before putting it down and standing, looking blindly around, and said politely, "Thank you, I'm going home now," and disapparated.

Hermione never swore, except this time she said a very bad word indeed. Harry was very sick, and he had just apparated a distance that was generally regarded as the limit of the range of a normal wizard, although witches could usually manage a bit further.

She spoke to Linda about arranging a locum not just for the afternoon, but for the rest of the week. She wanted Ben to help her, and maybe have Harry accept him as a substitute for herself, but Harry's home was hidden, and she would need his permission before Ben joined her there. Hermione was thinking that Harry was going to need a great deal of her time for the next few days, if not longer.

She wasn't really very worried that Harry would have gone wrong when apparating - he was an expert, and did it casually and routinely. So she packed for herself, told Ron where she would be, packed the potions and instruments that she wanted, and only then did she appear in the apparation zone at Harry's place.

Meantime, Harry arrived in his home, again feeling a desperate need for exercise. Reeling to the side, he dropped his clothing, barely remembering to leave on underpants, and walked unsteadily to the swimming pool.

When Chris came for a lunchtime swim fifteen minutes later, Harry was still swimming, stroking fast, up and down the pool. Chris left him to it, not at first knowing that there was anything wrong. Harry was swimming faster than usual, but that was hardly an indicator of illness. Chris started more casually swimming his routine laps on the other side of the pool. Harry didn't appear to notice he was there, although usually he would greet him, and sometimes they would indulge in some horseplay together.

Harry hauled himself from the pool quite suddenly, thrust himself away from the edge and started fitting, his body jerking out of control. It seemed to go on and on, to the acute concern of Chris, now standing beside him, not knowing what to do. Luckily Hermione arrived then, looking for him. She hurried straight to his side, kneeling and taking his wrist, as the jerking slowly began to subside.

"What's the matter with him?" asked Chris.

"It was a fit," said Hermione in a matter of fact tone, but this was serious, Harry had never fitted before that she knew of. "My name's Healer Granger. I want you to get help. Is there a man called John still work here? He used to be a Nursing Assistant."

Chris asked, "An old man who looks after the First Aid? - he's still here."

"Please get him, and then come back yourself. If you can't find John, then get someone else. As soon as you come back, we'll get him into bed."

She stayed with Harry, her fingers on his pulse, while Chris hurried away, and returned with both his brother Peter, and old John. The last slight tremors died down.

When Harry woke, he was in his own bed, feeling very weak, and with John in a chair beside him. Hermione was back in London, picking up a couple of medical books, some different potions she thought she might need, including an anti-fitting potion, and another of her assortment of monitors, that would give warning of an oncoming fit. She had few epileptics among her patients, but she was an expert on diseases of the mind and brain. She knew that she could look after Harry as well as anyone could.

She had talked to Ben, too. If Harry gave permission, he would join his mother, and they would take turns watching over him as long as required. Ben wanted to watch and learn. Hermione had told him that Harry Potter was not ageing as a normal person ages, and he very much wanted to do as Hermione said he should - to start watching over this unique wizard. One day, Hermione would want to retire.

John looked up when Harry stirred. He was still looking dazed and disoriented, but the dreadful and unmanageable excitement of his body was gone, and he only said a few words to John, closed his eyes, and went back to sleep.

He woke again as Hermione came into the room, and was cooperative when she wanted to check him over. She had John stay, and John steadied him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Hermione took rather a lot of readings, and told him to lie down again. She was studying her results, trying to work out what was going on, while John dabbed a lotion on his feet, which quickly started to heal. The damage was less than it might have been. There was a shallow cut across an arm, too, and a few bruises, but he couldn't say where those had come from.

She still hadn't discussed her results with him. She had not worked out what was wrong, but knew that, whatever it was, it was serious. He agreed when she asked if she could bring her son Ben in, and only closed his eyes again when she left to get him.

He was more alert by the time she returned, and sat up on the edge of the bed. Ben was there, and she asked him if he minded if Ben knew what was happening, His look was of sharp intelligence now, as he glanced at Ben, and heard what Hermione was thinking - that he needed a younger healer. She would soon be too old, and he had a long life to come. It was a horrible thought to him, that his friends would get old, while he did not. But that might not happen. He knew within himself that he was very sick, and that it was not over.

"Is it all right with you, Harry?" asked Ben.

Harry nodded, "I'm very grateful."

But then he looked at Hermione, and he was the same as any other patient, the anxious question not quite verbalised - Can you fix me?

Hermione was doing some of her readings yet again, the fourth time in a short period, and he pointed out, "You already did that."

"They keep changing," said Hermione, carefully noting down some figures.

"Well?" he asked. His body was still quiet, and he could think again.

"The first reading I did at the office, showed LV and energy levels spiking madly, basically unreadable. I also did a mind excitement reading, that shows how far on the scale between depression and excitement a person is. That was all over the place, too. Physical indications were of a considerable excitement, and a muscle fatigue indicator showed that your muscles could take weeks to recover. Other indicators were either normal, or distinctly strange. I'm not sure what's happening. But I can be positive about one thing: your LV reading has soared, and maybe this is the core of the problem. Your body has to adjust."

"It was Heather. I don't know what happened, but she changed me. I've been finding myself trembling suddenly for no reason for days." He said, soberly, "It's not over. It's just a reprieve. I don't want to have another fit. It feels like it's doing damage."

"Did John say you had a fit?"

"I felt it coming." He gave her a half-smile, not really hoping, "I don't suppose you can wave your wand and fix me?"

"We'll just have to wait and see. We'll take the main readings frequently, and try and work out what's likely to happen," and she took yet another reading then and there, just the Nisco, which she'd settled on as the most sensitive and useful weapon she had. She told him, LV 210, energy reading low.

Ben gaped, LV210? Harry was looking down, shaking his head. He thought that maybe Hermione was right. And did that mean he had more magical power again? He didn't need more power!

She suggested some lunch, then, and Harry pulled himself to his feet, and said that he'd just dress, in an obvious hint for her to leave. Hermione smiled to herself. As if she hadn't seen him naked before! But she picked up her notes and nodded to Ben, and they went into a large, scarcely used office. They had a deep discussion then, the experienced healer and the young one. There was no help from books. Harry Potter was unique.

Harry was thinking to himself that he was going to have to work at this - he couldn't go through life hearing everything that those around him thought. He was blushing a little, too. He didn't like being reminded that Hermione had seen him naked.

He seemed perfectly all right again as he walked off to ask the cook if she would mind providing three meals in the dining room for them. He wasn't even using his cane. The cook wasn't prepared for three more lunches. She hadn't known that he was home, let alone that he had two friends with him, but he said that sandwiches would be fine. The elderly woman had her pride, and the three were shortly provided with a very good meal.

The conversation at lunch was gentle and amicable. After a half hour, Hermione took a quick reading and surprised a frown of irritation from Harry. He urgently needed her help, but yet still hated being checked like that, and he took a moment to calm himself. Ben steered the conversation back to his travels, and they went into the lounge room.

"Are you going to let me pay you for this, Hermione?" asked Harry. "You know I always seem to have enough money."

Ben chimed in, "If you let me be your healer, I won't mind if you pay me."

Harry laughed, and took him off to meet Margaret, asking her to pay any accounts that were sent from Healer Ben Weasley, or, of course, Healer Granger.

Margaret was sorting mail, and Ben looked at the piles in amazement. "What _are_ all these?"

Harry replied, "Bills, hate mail, Thank you letters - and letters from maidens wanting to be deflowered - but Margaret never will let me have the names!"

Margaret smiled and looked disapproving at the same time, "They've been none of those for a long time, and at least half the love letters are from men!" which effectively squelched poor Harry.

Harry had suggested that the healers were no longer needed, he was obviously fine now, but Hermione was noticing that he was beginning to be increasingly fidgety, and only suggested that it was a long time since they'd been here for a social visit - and to tell them about that bazaar in Persia. The talk turned to some recently amended wizarding laws, and Harry was starting to talk more excitedly, and then found he had to get up and pace.

After a while, Hermione quietly got out her monitor, and Harry stopped, suddenly expressionless, and waited. She held the monitor to the crook of his elbow for much longer than usual, and he waited, afraid. Hermione glanced at his face, and said quietly, "Energy levels much higher, and starting to spike, LV reading spiking also, but not as much." She removed the monitor, and he crossed to the window, looking out, as she wrote down the results of her check.

"Calming Potion?" suggested Ben.

Hermione nodded, "That and the Intek Potion." She was not hopeful. It was an obvious move to try the anti-fitting potion, but potions seldom seemed to work very well with Harry.

Harry took both potions, as instructed, and forced himself to sit calm. For a little, the doses seemed to help. Ben and Hermione made gentle conversation about Ben's work, and Harry, for a time, tried to participate. But when he noticed that his fingers were beginning to drum uncontrollably on the side of the chair, he suddenly rose. "I'm going to... think, a little - see if I can control it myself. Can you just leave me alone?" and he walked into the bedroom, and a chair was suddenly in the corner. He had forgotten to use his wand, which was still in his kitbag abandoned near where he had apparated into the house the previous evening.

Hermione followed him and took yet more readings. It was looking worse and worse, but this time he didn't ask what she found, and she didn't volunteer the information.

He turned the chair away from the room, facing the wall, and sat, leaning his head back, and turning a calm, expressionless face to the wall. He closed his eyes as Hermione had seen him do several times when he had concentrated on breaking a spell. This time he was looking inside himself for answers, and for control. It was effectively meditation, but he had always shied away from that term. It seemed so pretentious!

For over an hour, he stayed there, not moving, and Hermione, checking from a distance after ten minutes, noticed that he was breathing more slowly and calmly. She continued to check on him every ten minutes or so, although never approaching to disturb him. It appeared that he might be able to manage the over excitation of his body by mind control alone.

Harry Potter had been taught by Professor Dumbledore himself, she told her son. He had a great deal of learning, and could talk on an equal basis with the great intellectuals of the day. That he played like a kid, ate ice-creams, and got himself into fights was the legend. It was true, she told him, but only a part of the picture. If anyone could overcome this problem by meditation, Harry could.

But Harry, still in his chair, and working at keeping himself calm, started trembling again. And when she looked in next, he was pacing rapidly from side to side in the room. He stopped for her when she took her readings, and again she didn't tell him her findings. He was staring past her, his hands clenching and unclenching. But then he looked at her, forced himself to breathe calmly, and told her that he was going to swim for a while, and then try again.

She nodded, and stepped back. Keeping rigid control of himself, Harry stepped out of his clothes, touched his undies which made the slight style change to swimmers, and walked steadily through the intervening rooms to the pool.

"One moment," she called after him, a different monitor in hand. She wanted to make sure that another fit was not imminent.

She let him go after the quick check, and he dived cleanly into the pool, and started swimming smoothly and rhythmically, lapping the pool again and again. John had called Chris, who was close, in case Harry found himself in trouble again. After fifteen minutes, he pulled himself easily out.

Hermione did another set of readings, and there was no hint of irritation from Harry. It was an improvement, Hermione thought, the spikes were levelling out, he was not trembling, and he slipped his shirt and jeans back on, and resumed his seat, working hard at controlling his own nervous irritation.

He couldn't do it, although he tried for the next hour. He sought for calm, searched inside himself for control, but was suddenly on his feet, and pacing rapidly, frantically, to and fro across the room. He needed to walk, he could not be still, and he was trembling again, and when Hermione looked in on him, he looked at her in desperation. "I can't do it!"

He trembled and shuddered as she took her readings, and then she used that monitor that indicated a possible oncoming fit. It was bad. The LV and energy levels were both spiking madly, to very high levels, and when she took his pulse, it was racing. His breathing was shallow and fast.

"I'll have to swim again," he said. "I've got to be moving!" and he started heading toward the pool, this time forgetting that he should be in swimmers.

_"No,_ Harry!" and she put her hand on his arm. "You can't swim!"

He pulled himself from her and continued toward the pool. Ben intervened, trying to physically restrain the sick man, but Harry wrenched himself violently away, and whirled on him, fists clenched, before taking a swift step back and saying, "Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to." He was trembling violently now. "Sorry."

He was looking at them, desperately - he passed a shaking hand across his forehead, as the tremors becoming more and more violent. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to turn on you! I just thought... if I'm doing something - I don't want to fit again!" Hermione handed him a potion, and he drank it, quickly, desperately. It should have rendered him unconscious, but it scarcely seemed to slow him down. He was pacing again, frantically, no longer taking notice of them. A couple of chairs pulled themselves back, out of the way.

John and Chris were both still present, hanging back, but alert in case they were needed. They were terribly worried. This was the boss, and he was obviously very sick.

Ben suggested quietly to Hermione that they should stun him, that a period of unconsciousness was a lot better than a fit. The mediwizards knew that Harry was right when he had said that it felt like it was doing damage. Fits do do damage.

Harry turned toward them waiting. "Hermione?"

Hermione slowly got out her wand. "Are you sure, Harry?"

He still trembled, but said quietly, not quite calmly, "As you say, fits do damage," and he waited to be stunned.

Hermione did it for him, as Chris Barnes watched, open mouthed. John was a squib, and had seen this sort of thing before, but Chris had a sudden impulse to rush to the defence of his boss, who was also his friend. John saw his face, took him by the arm, and reassured him. Healer Granger knew what she was doing, and was a dear friend of Harry's.

The stunning worked better than they could have imagined. The readings stopped spiking up and down, and settled on what appeared to be stable readings. Hermione took the Niscos as soon as he went down, and did further readings once he was in bed. Energy levels again very low, LV still extraordinarily high, mind excitation reading now normal. Pulse and breathing suddenly normal.

He took over three hours to revive, far longer than normal, and remained very quiet for the next few days, lethargic, as well as stiff and sore from too much walking and too much exercise. Ben and Hermione visited frequently during the day, and one or other of them stayed overnight. Either Chris or John kept close during the days, and they both had Hermione's and Ben's phone numbers to call if necessary.

Late on the third day, he told Chris that he was going out, and visited the French brothel for a couple of hours. He was positive that that had a beneficial effect on his health, too, as well as being immensely enjoyable.

On the fourth day, he was striding around the estate, galloped the moors on Lockerbie, and picked up a girl in the evening, for a spot of sex. He came home happy. He was optimistic that the problem had resolved itself.

Hermione and Ben decided that he was safe to leave by himself at night.

Late in the afternoon of the fifth day, Harry called home, and Kevin, Chris and Pete, with Ben Weasley, went to pick him up from a muggle hospital, in a middle sized city seventy miles away.

They found him, and waited as he patiently signed some papers to indicate that he was leaving against medical advice.

Harry was looking pale and thin, his head was down, and he was being walked along the corridor, supported by Chris on one side, and Pete on the other, when the big aurors Eli, Trevor and Jebedee appeared, Therese with them. Jebedee went straight to them, big, black, impressive.

"Thank you, we'll look after him now," he said, with an air of total command and control.

Ben Weasley was with Harry and the young muggles, and he, too, was only in his early twenties, all of them thoroughly daunted by the power and authority of the big aurors.

Young Chris beside him said, "Harry?"

Harry looked up. Therese was concerned. He looked so haggard, and she wondered what was the matter with him. "Hello, Jebedee," he said, and nodded at the other Ministry employees. "It's all right, Chris and Pete are just taking me home."

Jebedee was accustomed to getting his own way when he wanted, and he put on his best authoritative voice, and power radiated from him as he said, soothingly, "I think it's best you come with us. Therese needs to look at you," and Trevor and Eli moved forward as if totally confident that he would be immediately handed over.

Chris, Pete and even Ben were daunted, uncertain, but Harry put on his own air of command, and said, "No. I'm going home. I have my own mediwizard. Healer Weasley will look after me."

Young Ben Weasley stood taller; he was the healer of Harry Potter! The aurors looked at each other and fell back. Jebedee murmured to Trevor, who turned, slipped around a corner, and was gone by the time Harry and his muggle helpers turned the same corner.

The aurors followed the young men, scarcely more than boys, as they helped Harry out to a car. The car was a new silver Mercedes, and Kevin was at the wheel. It was theoretically Harry's car, but Kevin had no intention of ever letting him drive this one. They put Harry in the front seat, and didn't stop Therese from taking Harry's wrist.

"What's the matter, Harry? Are you all right?" she asked.

"I was in a fight is all," said Harry, "Got myself knocked out and still feel a bit sick."

Seeking information, Jebedee said, "Will I tell Miss Darke that she can start organising the trips again then?"

Harry was looking fairly alert, now, and said, "Not for a few weeks, I'll be travelling. I'll let her know."

Trevor arrived back then, murmuring to Jebedee, with the result that the car was allowed to leave. It had been an ideal opportunity for the Ministry to find the whereabouts of Harry's hidden home, but the car, on Mark's orders, was not followed.

Harry, in the front seat, closed his eyes. He was in a poor state after a fight that ended too soon, and a violent fit that followed its abrupt conclusion.

The aurors used their influence to get the medical records of Mr. Potter, and the Ministry learned that Harry was now, apparently, an epileptic, with likely brain damage. But the conclusion of brain damage was largely based on a markedly abnormal muggle brain scan, and Therese didn't think that the brain scan of such a powerful wizard was going to look much like that of a muggle. However, it was conclusive from witnesses, that Harry had had a major epileptic fit. Therese read the reports carefully, put a copy in her own file, and sent a copy to Healer Granger. That Harry Potter was apparently having fits was very serious news for the Ministry.

***chapter end***


	12. Chapter 12

_Notes:__ Harry's children, Adam Bourne, stepson, Margaret, Victoria and James, children of Ginny, and Beth, daughter of Luna. _

_Healer Ben Weasley is the son of Hermione and Ron. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 12 :_

Beth was keeping a close watch on her father, but didn't make any effort to speak to him. She wondered if he knew that he was battling for his life, or maybe for his sanity.

Harry knew he was battling for his life, and he used all the weapons he could think of. Potions had been proven ineffective, but he knew that heavy exercise helped slow down the spiralling cycle of over-excitement that culminated in a fit, that sex also helped, and a fight was good, too, but only if there were enough opponents to offer a challenge. And every day, several times a day, he would take up position in his chair, stare at nothing, and try to overcome the problem that way.

Yet it seemed that he just could not win, and he became more and more thin and nervy. The trembling of his body became a more usual state to him than calm, although he generally manage to relax his body, at least a little, when he meditated. Three more times Hermione wound up stunning him when the progressive over-excitation got out of hand again. Potions no longer had any effect whatever.

It had not occurred to him that he might be battling for his sanity until a night when muggle police contacted the auror department. Harry was in a major battle, with a whole street gang, not one at a time, but three or four against him at once. Two policemen watched unnoticed, in awe of his inhuman speed and apparent strength, and their radio report resulted in Eli and Zack appearing, also watching.

At last, the members of the gang still standing, backed off, saw the policemen standing by, and fled, leaving Harry standing, swaying slightly, and trembling, three unconscious bodies around him. The policemen cautiously approached, and one knelt by a body.

"Broken jaw," he said, and Harry looked up. _"No!_ I don't hit hard enough to break jaws!"

"See for yourself!" said the policeman. Harry went down on his knees beside the man, and felt the broken jaw, closed his eyes for better concentration, and magically mended it. He checked the other two, and mended two more broken jaws.

He stood again, staring down in consternation. His body still trembled, but he was quite calm, and knew he was not in danger of an imminent fit. Taking on a street gang had been one of his best weapons against the illness, but now he decided he could not do that any more. He had caused serious injury. There were policemen all around him, looking at each other, apprehensive. One, a bit more brave, or maybe more rash than the rest, finally said, "We're going to have to take you in, Harry. Grievous Bodily Harm, that is." They were beginning to know Harry again, the muggle police.

Harry took a quick step back, his trembling suddenly redoubled. "No, you can't lock me up!"

Eli swiftly came forward then, "Excuse me, here's our identification. We'll take Harry. He's not a well man." The policemen leapt on this with relief. None of them wanted broken jaws, and they had just watched him fight!

Zack took Harry's arm. He stayed still, and the policemen organised ambulances for the fallen men. A sleek Ministry car drew up, and Zack, Eli and Harry got in.

Harry was in the back seat, between Eli and Zack. "What's the matter, Harry?" asked Eli.

"It's like you said, I'm not well," he answered. He was still trembling, but he was accustomed to that now, and scarcely noticed it any more.

Eli wondered if he was going mad, and, with acute worry, what they would do with him if that happened.

Harry leaned forward, tapped the driver on the shoulder, and asked politely if he minded pulling up. He wanted to go home now.

The driver hesitated, looking in the mirror, but got a quick shake of the head from Zack, and the car smoothly continued on its way. Harry raised an eyebrow at Zack, but Zack just said, "Come on, Harry, you know we're your friends. I think you should see Therese. And Kingsley might like to talk to you, too."

Harry sat back in his seat. "I have my own healer, but I'll see Kingsley if you like."

He refused to see Therese, and Zack and Eli were treating him with as much tact as they could muster. He looked very thin, his body had a continuous quiver, and his eyes had a feverish glitter. He was jumpy, too, they noticed, as he flinched around when someone dropped something.

Kingsley used his voice to effect. The deep voice could calm and soothe, and Harry began to relax a little in his chair in Kingsley's Office, as Kingsley made gentle conversation. The trembling started to die from his body. He would not give them any information, and when Therese was brought in and started undoing his sleeve, as she did when she suspected he might resist her taking her readings, he just said no, and the monitor flew from her hands to the other side of the room.

Therese looked at him in shock. Zack and Eli, standing close, were surprised, too. Harry seldom exhibited his ability to work magic without the use of a wand. But Harry just said politely, "Thank you, Therese, but I have my own healer."

Kingsley was looking at him. He, too, was worried that Harry was unstable, and possibly heading toward insanity.

Harry stood. He was leaving now. "Hermione Granger is looking after me, Kingsley. If by any chance, I do become mad and dangerous, she has only to tell me, and I would stay still for her to put me down. It would not be a good idea for anyone else to try it."

Kingsley sat looking at him, appalled. 'Mad and dangerous,' his worry had used that exact phrasing. He didn't know what to say.

Harry unexpectedly flashed a smile at him. "But don't worry, if I can't beat this thing, I'm a lot more likely to die than to go mad." Now they knew for sure that he was very seriously ill. He disapparated then, not even going to the atrium, as he usually did to disapparate.

He was not winning the battle, and that night, he found himself fitting again, with another episode only ten minutes after coming around from the first attack. He hated fitting. It was not just the worry of damage that it did, it was the sheer embarrassment of coming round to find himself on the floor, sometimes with bitten tongue, often with bruises, and, of course, wet. But after a fit, he was usually quiet for a few hours, and he had another chance to try and control the repeated cycle of escalating bodily excitation. The Nisco LV reading read, when not spiking, 240.

**x**

Two days later, he was in another confrontation in the street. This time he had just been walking. He had stopped looking for fights since he had broken jaws. But when three men with knives demanded his wallet, he whirled on them, taking away two of the knives very quickly, and causing them all to run.

But the victory was too easily won. The aborted fight brought on such a rapid onset of the unmanageable bodily excitement, that his attackers were still close by when his body started jerking in yet another fit. They took their revenge.

Harry spent the night in a muggle hospital, with massive blood loss from the knifing. He had not been found for some hours, and had come very close to bleeding to death. He opened his eyes late the following morning. There was some pain from the knife wound, but the peace in his body was a sensation he had not enjoyed for a long time, and he just lay for a time, enjoying that sensation. He no longer trembled, and his legs didn't ache to move.

He slept for a little, but opened his eyes when a nurse came to change the plastic bottle of blood that was going into his veins. Witches and wizards are told early that they should not accept blood transfusions. As well as sometimes being incompatible in odd ways, it could have unexpected magical results. Mostly a wizard would justify a refusal by claiming religious restrictions.

Harry just watched her quietly, and stopped the flow once she left. His wallet had been stolen and he had given a false name, so was not expecting aurors to appear. Hermione, however, had been worried enough when he didn't return that they knew he was missing, and the aurors were searching.

It was so good to be easy in the body, but Harry was still rather light headed, and didn't think twice when he decided to go home. He was still so weak from blood loss that he couldn't stand, or even sit, but just pulled out the Intravenous Drip, and apparated from his bed once he noticed he was alone, luckily reappearing perfectly safely, lying down on the floor of his own lounge room, half hidden behind some furniture. He felt very content now, and just lay there, with no desire to do anything at all. He dozed, blissfully relaxed.

Even though his staff were alert for his return, he was not found for some hours.

Meantime, the aurors had tracked him down to the muggle hospital, false name or not, and knew that he had mysteriously disappeared, probably to return home. They informed Hermione, and told her what they knew of his condition. It was only with the intensified search following that John finally noticed him dozing behind the couch, surprised to see a slight smile on the sleeping face.

Hermione took her readings before moving him, and he opened her eyes as she did, smiling at her sleepily.

"Hello, Hermione," he said. "I think I'm better."

Hermione smiled at him - the Nisco reading was extremely low, and in anyone else she would have been expecting imminent death. But Harry was different, and right now it was the high reading that was sinister, especially when it spiked so dramatically. On the latest reading before the knifing, the LV had read 253. Now it was 8. Harry was white-faced and extremely weak. He felt a lot better.

He needed the healers less now. Once the knife wound was repaired with a minor healing spell, it was only basic nursing skills required to look after him until he could again get himself about. Chris and Peter found themselves learning some new skills under the tuition of old John. Harry had been seriously sick several times, but never lost his feelings of embarrassment when people had to help him to the toilet, or even worse, provide bottles and bedpans.

It didn't take too many days before he could manage to take himself to the bathroom, with only help from his cane, or a strong arm to lean on. He thought he had done so well hiring Chris and Peter Barnes. Most of his original workers had become old in his service, but Chris and Peter had the careless strength of youth, and were indispensable to him now.

It was Ben who checked on him every day, rather than Hermione. Now that it was a more simple condition that his healers had to manage, Hermione took a rest. Ben was now a partner in Hermione's practice, which, in effect, meant that he could look after Harry when needed.

Harry paid attention these days when Ben gave him his results. He took little notice of technical information on blood volume and replenishment, and other things that the mediwizards thought were important. It was the LV that had landed him into trouble, and whatever the LV actually measured, he was beginning to feel that it was of vital significance, and this measurement showed a significant rise day to day. He thought he might not have a great deal of time before he was again in trouble. He suspected he knew what was the likely end of him if he couldn't control the excitement of his body. He would probably go on fitting until he died.

Hermione suspected the same, although there was an alternative scenario that filled her with horror. The fits could cause sufficient damage that he wound up a vegetable. Thankfully, Harry's telepathy had become more manageable now, and he mostly avoided hearing the thoughts of others. He never knew that Hermione thought it quite possible that he would wind up with sufficient brain damage that he would be better dead.

Two weeks later, the LV read 18, and Harry was making plans to entertain his whole family, or as many as could come, for a few days over Easter, which was a month away. The battle would re-commence soon, and he might not survive it. He thought that it would be a couple of months yet that he would be in trouble again, and was spending a lot of time thinking about that, too. He'd be better prepared next time. He wanted to see his family, all of them, before that happened. He had spoken to the cook and the house-elves, and authorised any additional help that might be required. He had a large family now, with children and grandchildren. He wanted Gemme and her husband and children too - he always regarded Gemme as a niece.

Word had spread that he was very ill, and the Daily Prophet carried a story one day, not just that he was ill, but about the wonderful work that he did, and what an asset he was to Wizardkind worldwide. Harry read it, and was impressed. For a convicted criminal, he apparently had a lot of admirers! There were widespread rumours, too, that he had a terminal illness, and when certain members of his family enquired of Healer Granger, they were not given any specific information, but were strongly urged to come. None of them refused. Many would come for two days, some for three, but Margaret and Sean, with their large tribe, and Gemme and her family would be there for just a day.

Harry was satisfied, and looked forward to it. He wasn't planning on saying good-bye, he just wanted to see everybody in case it was, and he was far too weak to apparate for a while yet.

Kingsley called in to see Healer Granger. There had been another series of attacks, in Sweden this time. The culprit had been apprehended, but twelve people including women and children, and two aurors, were now pumpkin-heads. They knew Harry was sick, but was there any way? Hermione knew how Harry felt about pumpkin-heads, but he was so weak still! On the other hand, it was telepathy skills mainly that brought back these victims, he would need very little of his magical power. And there were children! She went to see Harry.

Fifteen minutes later, she was back in Kingsley's office. The pumpkin-heads had to be in England, as Harry was still too weak to travel. He could not even walk far yet, and that had to be taken into account. That Jebedee could come and collect him, as he could not apparate, but that the Ministry should not record the apparation coordinates of his home, and Jebedee should tell no-one else.

Hermione had been surprised at this concession from Harry, and Kingsley was even more surprised. No matter how friendly Harry appeared to be with the aurors, he had never previously given them any hint of where he lived.

Three hours later, twelve pumpkin-heads waited in the Ministry building, and Jebedee apparated to the coordinates given, and looked about him curiously. He could see some horses, including a beautiful mare heavily in foal, extensive gardens, and a large house in the distance. A tabby cat hissed at him as he arrived, and three wizards waited to meet him, one whom he remembered as the driver of the car when he'd tried to collect Harry so that he could be looked after properly.

From the house in the distance, a plump pony, escorted by Hermione, and another of the young men he'd seen that day, walked toward them. Harry, he saw, was thinner than ever. His shoulders hunched a little over the pony as he drooped, and yet this man who looked so weak and ill was the only hope of the twelve prisoners in the monsters now placidly waiting in the Ministry building.

Harry greeted Jebedee, waiting in the apparation zone. Chris steadied the sick man as he slipped off the pony, and joined Jebedee. Jebedee only said, "Ready?" and put an arm around Harry.

An instant later, Harry was in a small inner office of the Ministry building. It held a narrow bed, a desk, and a couple of chairs, and surely one of those chairs was one he had conjured himself. He recognised this room. It was apparently another area of the Ministry building in which one could apparate.

Jebedee still held him in a tight grip. He had nearly fallen as they had arrived. But he straightened now, and Jebedee noticed that he carried a cane. "Where to?" said Harry, and Jebedee led off, along the corridor to a large conference room. There was an easy chair in the corner, and Sanaz, Anthony and Zack greeted him. There were several other observers back against the wall of the large room. Ben Weasley was with them.

Therese bustled over to him, but Harry only gave her a hug, and said, sorry, Hermione was looking after him, today - if he needed looking after. Therese was appalled. He looked so sick. Harry wasn't willing to waste time, and as soon as Hermione arrived, he asked for the first patient, suggesting that they start with the children.

Hermione used her wand to bring the chair forward. Harry was to sit this time, although it might make it harder for him to duck flying fists. They brought in the smallest child, Harry touched her hand, searched, and suddenly a screaming child was thrashing on the floor in a tantrum. Sanaz stood right next to him, and blocked a slap from the next child, a boy of about twelve. The fighting, yelling boy was manhandled out of the room. Harry wasn't even trying to keep control of them this day. He didn't have the strength to keep them calm, and would count himself lucky if he managed just to finish them all.

Two small girls were taken off screaming, and the children were done. Hermione glanced at Harry, and asked for a ten minute break. He was grateful, and leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.

Therese longed for the chance to get out her Nisco monitor, but she had been soundly rebuffed last time she had tried that, and just observed. He no longer trembled, and no longer appeared nervy. But he was thinner, and was obviously very weak.

Hermione tapped him on the shoulder, as a young woman was led in. He reached for the limp hand, searched, and finally dropped the wrist. "Dead!" he said.

Another woman, and this time, he closed his eyes for a second, and then stood, leaning on his cane. He waved his wand at the chair, which retreated to the wall, and looked around at the room. "Soften a few edges, would you, Anthony? This one's going to go berserk."

There was a word outside, and Craig appeared in the room. Sanaz, Anthony and Craig waited at the ready, wands raised, and Jebedee came to Harry's left side, ready to pull him out of the way the instant the pumpkin-head tried to attack. The pumpkin-head melted into a woman, and Jebedee shielded Harry with his own body. It was only a moment, before Sanaz stunned the woman, and she was carried away, and Jebedee's strong body had taken the bruises, rather than Harry in his current frailty.

"Thank you, Jebedee." It was not just for Harry. If Harry was too much hurt, the rest of the patients lost hope of rescue.

Six down, six to go.

A very large man was led in then, well over six feet tall, and broad besides. Harry looked at him. "An auror?" he asked. He was leaning on his cane, looking like a breath of wind would blow him over. The Swedish man who was bringing in the patients nodded his head. "Can I do those last?" asked Harry. "They're more likely to knock me out than anyone else."

Out of the four that followed, two were dead, and two were rescued without incident, except that Jebedee received another few bruises as he shielded Harry.

"A break," said Harry, sitting back in his chair, and closing his eyes. Hermione used her monitor, Harry saying nothing at all, to Therese's surprise. She looked her intense curiosity at Hermione, but Hermione wasn't sharing any information this time. She merely made a couple of notes, and pocketed the notebook.

Harry roused himself after a short time, and turned his head to the Swede, "Next?" The very big man was led in again.

There had been a conference going on among the aurors, and this time Zack held Harry by the waist, Sanaz was very close with her wand, and Jebedee and Anthony were also close, wands at the ready. Harry efficiently shielded his mind, that was something he had learned from Heather, he could do it a lot better now. Zack was wondering whether Harry was going to last the distance, and thinking how thin he was, but Harry closed his mind to his thoughts. He was getting better at that, too.

The big auror was in a screaming fury, and Harry quietly said, "Be ready!"

Zack tried to pull Harry out of the way as the berserk man attacked. But Zack was laid out, and the man grabbed Harry by the neck, and swung him round like a limp doll, before going down to stunners from Sanaz and from Jebedee.

Harry was trying to pick himself up from the floor, coughing, and turning blue. Hermione knelt beside him, and suddenly pointed her wand at his throat, and muttered a spell. Harry could breathe again, but only pulled himself to a sitting position, and stayed there, his head down.

Therese was at the side of Zack, and he, too, needed attention. His jaw was broken.

After fifteen minutes, Harry was back in his chair, looking worse than ever. Zack's jaw had been fixed, but he'd been taken away, still unconscious. The next patient was brought in. Harry was shaky as he approached the monster, and felt for the man within. "All right, he's alive. Everyone ready?"

Reinforcements had been brought in, and now Eli held Harry. Again, Harry didn't try to hold the man calm, he was at the end of his strength.

But the large man held his temper anyway. It was widely known now that Harry Potter could rescue pumpkin-heads, he had known when he tried to arrest the wizard what could happen, and he had held himself rational. He was calm when brought out.

Harry stood swaying, leaning on his cane, and said shakily, "I think I might lie down for a little, if there's somewhere I can go." He didn't even see Kingsley who waited outside the room with a few Swedish wizards, but only walked where pointed, and sank onto the narrow bed in the small room where they had apparated. Hermione and Ben were both with him, and Anna on guard inside the room, Anthony outside. Therese was treating Jebedee's bruises.

Hermione was taking her measurements, and didn't like what she saw. Harry had given too much, the energy levels were rockbottom, and the LV was reading lower than before he had started the work. On the other hand, nine pumpkin-heads were human again. Harry merely closed his eyes, ignoring the healers, and rested, soon dozing.

The large conference room had been re-arranged, and an afternoon tea was being organised. Kingsley was saying to one, "Convinced, Barry? Has he earned his Pardon?"

Alston nodded, "He has my vote." Nearly all of the observers were members of the Wizemgamot, and had been invited with this specific purpose in mind.

An hour later, Harry found himself with a little more energy, and rose from the bed in the little room. Anna still waited beside him, and he looked at her speculatively. It was a while since he'd been able to go out.

She met his eyes, and suddenly blushed. _"No,_ don't look at me like that!" He still exuded sexuality, and she felt herself very tempted. "I've got a boyfriend!"

He turned his gaze away, "Sorry."

She was relieved then, and disappointed, too. "Anyway, you're weak as a kitten. How can you be thinking of that?"

He flashed her a glance, a gleam in his eye, but said nothing.

Instead he stood up, rather shakily still, and she handed him his cane. "Find Jebedee?" he suggested, and she led him back to the conference room. Kingsley wanted him to talk to several people he didn't much like then, and he really wanted to go home. Kingsley just hoped that his brevity would be put down to fatigue, and continued to stay with him, circulating around the room. There were pats on the back, hugs from an ex-pumpkin-head, until he said pleadingly, "Kingsley, I'm very tired!"

"Just one more," said Kingsley, in a soothing voice. The one more was a mistake. Harry could tell the difference between a pat on the back and a caress on the bottom, and an elderly and dignified wizard, another member of the Wizemgamot, leapt back with a burnt hand. Kingsley raised his eyes to the ceiling. _That_ was a vote definitely lost! Did the man have no sense of politics at all?

Ben had been with the observers, but was gone now. Hermione was still there, and wondering what on earth Kingsley thought he was doing. Couldn't he_ see_ that Harry was on the point of collapse? She was just about to intervene when Jebedee arrived, ready to take Harry.

Harry was conveyed efficiently back to his home, and when Hermione checked on him shortly afterward, he'd only discarded his cape and his shoes, and was already sound asleep. He didn't stir as she quietly took her readings.

Kingsley was in trouble from Therese when she discovered that he hadn't been taken straight home, but Kingsley was pleased with himself. All but one of the dissenters were now prepared to give Harry their vote for a Pardon. By the time the secret vote was put a couple of weeks later, the burnt hand had healed, and the man had decided that a little spirit was a good thing, and after all, he'd been warned!

The vote was unanimous. Harry would get his Pardon. It only remained for an appropriate ceremonial to be decided. Meantime it was kept very quiet. Draco Malfoy knew, of course...

Harry was thinking about sex. He had made a move on Anna, when he never normally considered relationships with witches, and especially not with those with whom he worked. But he shouldn't apparate - once he'd apparated when he was too tired, and ended up nearly drowning in a rough sea! He supposed other people got on without sex when they had to, but he was positive it wasn't for him, and when he found himself looking at Hermione with lustful eyes, luckily unnoticed, he decided that some arrangement was urgent.

He started taking out the old orange car, and it collected a few more dents, although he never went far. As soon as he found Helen, a divorcee who lived in town, he was a lot happier. But when he rolled the car in a ditch, Kevin started chauffeuring him to and fro. He never gossiped, either, except to his own wife, who told her neighbour...

**x**

Harry continued to get stronger. He was not impatient. The stronger he got, the closer the new battle for survival became. He was convinced that it was only his current weakness that was protecting him for the time being.

The Easter holidays arrived, and Beth was home. It was so wonderful to see her again. She was just the same, and he hugged her when Kevin brought her home in the car. He almost regretted asking all the others. He would have been happy just with Beth. The next morning, when he went outside, he found Jimmy Carr waiting for him. Kinship had had her foal. Harry and Beth spent a long time just admiring the mare, and the little foal asleep at her feet.

Harry didn't tell Beth about his struggles, although he was quite sure that she knew.

Beth told him what she had been doing, especially her contacts with the centaurs. She had made friends with others in the forest, too. She knew of the giant spiders in their hollow, but avoided them, and luckily they seemed to be dying out. Petreea, the centaur, had told her that there were far fewer than there used to be. She knew the unicorns, too.

He noticed she never talked about any friends. It was what he had been expecting, but all the same, he had hoped a little.

Harry was still not at all well, and the visit of all his family tired him, even though he was pleased to see them. Vicki took him in charge, and protected him from over exposure to some of the others, especially Margaret's rambunctious crew. Beth watched from a distance, and was not molested. Mostly Harry sat in one of his conjured easy chairs, and watched as the family circulated around each other, and laughed and joked.

A child of about seven stood in front of him, regarding him solemnly, one of Gemme's little girls. "Are you really going to die? Only I was going to go to a birthday party, and Mum said we have to come here because you might be going to die!"

Harry said, "Um..." and looked at Victoria, sitting beside him. What was he to say to this?

Vicky looked at him too, a question screaming in her mind, so that he couldn't fail to hear.

"I don't know - maybe."

The little girl looked at him assessingly, and finally said, "Oh, all right then," and dashed away.

Victoria was looking rather upset, but Harry was laughing. "Do you think she might learn more tact when she's a bit older?"

James was there, awkward with him as always. But he was there. Adam, and Chris Parker, Vicki's husband, were together, and having a lively conversation. There seemed to be dozens of children racing over the estate, although there couldn't really be that many... Margaret's crew didn't come very often. It was such a business organising for such a large family, and it had to be muggle transport, as Harry wasn't connected to the floo network.

There were always a group just watching the mare and foal, in a small well grassed paddock by themselves. Jimmy kept a close watch over the horses, to ensure they were not pestered. He remembered the mischief of Harry's redheaded daughters, and now there seemed to be redheads all over the place!

Harry had no babies this time to admire, but he especially noticed one little redhead called Ginny, always in the thick of the crowd. Harry thought that she looked just like his own Ginny had looked.

Sean Abercrombie, Margaret's husband, had some interesting news for Harry. His father, Euan, was now a senior Professor at Hogwarts.

***chapter end***


	13. Chapter 13

_Notes:__ Harry's staff include Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, Jimmy, who looks after the horses, John, general worker, Kevin, gardener, Chris and Peter Barnes, muggles, general workers. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 13_:

When they'd all gone, Harry thought it time to get down to business. He consulted with Hermione, and spent time in his workshop. Hermione still thought that the problem was caused by his body being unable to adjust quickly enough to a sudden and rapid change in its physiology, and Harry agreed. The LV levels had soared, and he thought that unless he kept himself sick, the same thing would inevitably happen again. There was a struggle coming.

He invented an updated and more comprehensive monitor. This could be worn discreetly on the wrist, like a watch-band, and was even made to resemble a watch, but the readings could be observed from a distance, on something that appeared to be a book, that could be opened to see the readings, or discreetly closed. Harry may have thought that he needed this prop, but wanted it at least kept as quiet as possible.

The readings that were shown were LV, energy levels percentage, as on the Nisco monitor, but also a raw figure that showed actual energy levels, and another that showed the maximum normal for the individual. For the first time, Hermione discovered that his maximum normal energy level was very high, too. The Nisco only gave percentage of an individual's normal, the raw figures gave additional information.

Hermione had wanted a mind excitation reading, but Harry didn't. This whole thing was an invasion of his privacy, without his healer knowing everything! There was a reading that warned of an imminent fit, though, and one that showed degree of consciousness. It was to be a vital weapon in the coming battle.

In years to come, Harry would regret its invention exceedingly. His healers were apt to become so fascinated with the various readings that he wound up destroying it in a temper, when he was very sick again, some decades later.

While Harry was at this in-between stage, no longer as weak, but not yet at the stage where the battle was likely to resume, he started doing a limited list of patients at Hermione's. The Ministry longed for more information on what was going on, but was consistently refused.

And every morning, Harry would practise his meditation, but still sought for a better word for it. Surely only weird types practised 'meditation.'

**x**

School holidays came. Harry's readings had risen to the levels they had been before Heather. He appeared strong and well. The Ministry asked him about doing overseas trips again, but he was vague. Maybe one day...

There had been a lot of discussion within the Ministry about the ceremony that would be appropriate to grant a Pardon. It had not been done for hundreds of years, so there was no precedent. Some thought that Harry should appear in a court room before the Wizemgamot, but Kingsley firmly vetoed that. Trying to haul Harry into a courtroom, and not tell him what it was all about, could be a recipe for disaster!

When Sweden notified the Ministry that they wanted to make an award to Harry for his work with the pumpkin eaters, an idea was finally accepted.

Harry received a pressing and personalised invitation to the Aurors' Graduation. Three were graduating, two young men, one young woman. It was to be combined with various other awards and graduations, as it always was. Harry was well for the moment, liked the boys who'd played with him when they had been assigned to overseas trips, and he planned to go.

On his arrival in the park they always used for this event, Zack, Anna and Eli promptly joined him. Their assignment was to make sure that he didn't become impatient with the speeches, and leave before the end. The aurors knew Harry very well by now. Other large aurors shielded Harry's family from his view. They wanted his award to be a surprise. Bob and Stan Pickering were present, each with wives, but they too, stayed at the opposite side of the crowd.

Kingsley knew that Harry had telepathic abilities, which he used in his cures. He didn't know how far-reaching those abilities were, but had taken as many precautions as he could think of. The Pardon was to be a surprise. Not even the aurors knew of that - they thought it was only to do with the Swedish award.

Harry didn't like surprises, and although he couldn't see them, he was looking in the direction of his family. He could feel their presence. He didn't have to try, he knew they were there, and was puzzled.

Zack was watching him. Zack couldn't see Harry's family from where they were, and was sure that Harry could not.

Harry was looking around now - he didn't like surprises, but when he recognised a very large Swedish auror, he relaxed. They were just going to give him a medal or some such thing, the same as the Austrians had.

Various certificates were awarded to various graduates in various departments of the Ministry. Several awards were made to Ministry employees. Harry waited patiently. The speeches were all short, luckily, although they seemed very repetitive. His mind strayed. It was rather good to be able to stand for so long. Only a month or so before, that would still have been difficult. He wondered where he had put that Austrian award... they were really rather useless things, awards... He wondered if they'd actually remembered to pay him for those Swedish pumpkin-heads - that would be more to the point...

The newly qualified aurors were called up one by one, receiving their piece of parchment they had earned. It was a three year course, and not an easy one. Once Harry had very much wanted to be an auror, himself, but his life had taken a different turn.

Now some Swedes were on the podium. Kingsley introduced the Swedish Minister for Magic. He was speaking English - slowly, and not very well. Even though he had been prepared for it, Harry's name had to be repeated by Kingsley, before he came forward. He was calm, matter of fact, accepting the award with polite gratification, before turning to leave.

But now it was Kingsley's turn, and he was filled with delight. "One moment, Harry," he said, and Harry turned to him, confused. Kingsley turned to the crowd, and spoke so that his voice carried sufficiently that all could hear. "Several years ago, Harry Potter was convicted of a crime."

Harry was expressionless - what was he bringing that up for?

"Harry Potter is Pardoned for that crime. By unanimous vote of the Wizemgamot, I have here a Pardon for Harry Potter."

Harry stared at him in disbelief. "A Pardon?"

"A Pardon," said Kingsley, and was very satisfied when a wide and tremulous smile spread across Harry's face, and his eyes were suddenly bright with unshed tears. And he was amused when, suddenly, the expression vanished, and Harry was calm and composed, the usually expressive face suddenly showing nothing at all. But for a brief moment, he had shown his true feelings, and Kingsley knew that Harry had felt his disgrace a lot more than he had ever known.

There was cheering, and there were hugs from his family, even from James. Bob and Stan Pickering were very satisfied. They had worked for this for a long time now. Probably it would never have happened without their continuous pressure. A Pardon was a very rare thing.

Harry kept a strict guard on his self control. He wanted to go home and cry, but no-one else must see how important this was to him.

When he arrived home, the Swedish medal was forgotten, left in his pocket when he removed his cape, but the two sheets of parchment that was his Pardon - that he examined with wonder. One was a certificate type paper, signed by Kingsley as the Minister for Magic, the other was a sheet signed by all sixty of the great witches and wizards of the Wizemgamot. He locked himself in his bedroom, and even put a sound guard spell on his room, as he combed through the names, even that wizard whose hand he had burned, had signed it. Unanimous. He did cry tears then, although no-one saw. And only Beth knew of his emotion.

**x**

A battle was beginning for Harry. The LV reading continued to rise, quite quickly. Hermione and Ben were keeping a close watch. He went about his normal activities, but he was alert for problems. He was much better prepared now, and was optimistic that he would learn to manage the problem. The day after Beth went back to school, he found he needed to work at keeping himself on an even keel, but he managed it, and the spikes in the readings faded away.

Nightmares were bad, and the first time he was in real trouble, it was a nightmare that triggered it. It was the middle of the night, but he was wide awake, trembling, and when he checked himself, the readings were already spiking wildly. By now Harry and his healers knew that this spiking of the readings was the first sign of what he referred to vaguely as 'nervous attacks.'

He tried swimming first. He couldn't seem to think himself out of an attack until his muscles had been quieted with some heavy exercise. After a long time, he hauled himself out of the water, sitting on the side of the pool, trying to think. He tried meditation, but it was too soon, and he gave up. He went outside instead, even though it was the middle of the night, and went walking on the moors. He should have left a note in case he was missed, instead he staggered in at dawn, still trembling, still unable to control the attack.

He knew that Chris now lived in, but didn't know that he was checked on several times a night. Chris already knew that he was missing, and was alert for his return. Harry had forgotten the monitor, that should have warned him to stay out of the pool, but he wasn't fitting yet.

Chris tried to phone Hermione, early morning or not, but there was no answer. Neither could he contact Ben, who was at a girlfriend's place. Harry was desperately threshing his way up and down the pool. Chris wanted him out of the water, not relishing trying to rescue a man in the midst of a violent fit, so entered the pool himself, and put himself in Harry's way.

At the interruption, Harry found a touch of sense and pulled himself out of the pool, standing quivering at the edge for a moment. But his legs ached to move, and he started to pace, frantically. He'd forgotten to put on swimmers, although he'd remembered to take off his clothes, now on the floor in a rough line from the doorway.

Chris was worried. He knew now that Hermione always tried to stun Harry rather than have him fit. He tried to phone her again, but again there was no answer. He was trying to make up his mind. When he went to Harry, Harry turned to him, waiting. Chris laid out his boss with a scientific blow to the jaw, and Harry's body found some peace.

As soon as Ben arrived, a description of Harry's state earned Chris a hearty commendation. Ben said, "I always heard he could fight!"

"I think he stayed still for me. He can fight all right, and if I'd remembered, I probably wouldn't have been game to try it!" and he told Ben a little of how he came to be hired.

Harry's healers kept a closer watch on him after that, making sure that one or other of them was always available. Without reference to Harry, it was decided that both Chris and Pete would move into the house for a time, and an alarm was fixed so that John could be called in from his home on the property, whenever needed.

For the next two weeks, Harry was able to control the condition, even when he woke from nightmares, he swam for a while, watched always by Chris or Pete, and then resorted to his chair, 'Just thinking,' as he called it. With the remote monitor screen, and the watch sensor that he now left on all the time, Hermione and Ben could even observe as he managed to reduce the sinister spiking by mind control alone, and restore himself to his normal state. LV 210 now. It looked like he might be winning.

Harry still went out - often. He sometimes needed to walk, for many hours, and fast. And he needed sex. It was one of the best ways to cut short a beginning attack. Besides, he liked sex! There was one evening in London, when he had walked a long way, and was approached by a young street walker, possibly not even out of her teens. Previously when he patronised prostitutes, Harry had always gone to high class brothels, almost always in Paris. He had gone to one in America once, but thought it rather crass. They just didn't know how to do things in America...

But now he was in urgent need, although he hadn't realised it until the girl had taken his arm and put her question, and he went back to her place. Her name was Chrissy.

He was hesitant when he got there. Somehow, it wasn't right. He wondered if he should just pay her and leave, but his body clamoured for relief, and he so hated to have fits.

Afterward, he felt better in his body, but he knew that she had prevented herself from enjoying it, and she was only reluctant to go back into the cold air and search for the next customer. He paid her so that he could stay the night, and paid also so that he could use her phone and ring home. They kept a close watch on him now, and would have become worried.

It was good to sleep with a girl, rather than just having sex, and when he started into a nightmare, she stroked his forehead, and murmured to him, so that it went away. Having nightmares these days was very bad for him.

Morning, and the light gradually seeped into the room. It was quite cold, but Harry didn't seem to feel the cold, and had pushed away the blankets. For some reason, Chrissy was feeling maternal, and very sad. He seemed to have so many scars. There was one close under his rib cage, that looked fairly recent, a prominent one on his cheek, and yet another on his forehead that she hadn't noticed before. There was a long curving slash on his back, too, that she had run her fingers along the previous evening. He had a beautiful body, if rather thin. She wondered how old he was. Somehow the face didn't quite match the youth of his body.

But Chrissy had to work hard. A heroin addiction is very expensive, and it was easier to have another session with this man, whom she quite liked, than to look for another Johnny. She leaned over him as he lay on his back...

Afterward, getting dressed, he was looking at the thin girl with the sad face. He opened his mind to her, as he so seldom did, and he knew that she hated this life, and she was frightened of sex, which was why she resisted enjoyment. And he knew that she had to earn a lot of money to feed her addiction.

Harry took strays home with him sometimes. There had been a couple of very old donkeys who had lived out their lives in a back paddock, and a shaggy piebald Shetland. He had presented a scarred mongrel dog to Kevin once, who had looked at the animal in bemusement, and within a week, had loved him.

Now he wanted to take this stray home, not for his own use, but to give her a better life. He started carefully. "If I could magically cure your heroin addiction, and if I could give you a job, and a home in the country, would you be interested?"

She looked at him distrustfully. "You can't do that!"

His reply held a conviction that impressed her in spite of herself, "I can do that." He continued. "I could take you with me, to my own home. You could have a little flat to yourself, and Bill, the manager, would find you a job. And you would never have to have sex again unless you wanted - not with me, not with anyone! The only thing is, if I took away your addiction, and you used some heroin again, you would need the dose that a beginner uses, not what you're accustomed to."

A prostitute has to be careful. They are prey for murderers and perverts of all descriptions. They cannot afford to trust! On the other hand, she hated her life. Could anything be worse? But she didn't believe him, and laughed scornfully. "What are you then, to offer me all that? A magician?"

He replied, "Pretty much - I'm a wizard." She still looked at him with disbelief. He asked, "Do you want it?" and he felt her upsurge of longing.

Of course she wanted it. She had made a mistake four years ago, at fifteen, and now she expected to pay for it for the rest of her life!

He didn't have his wand with him, but muggles probably didn't know that one was supposed to use a wand anyway, and as he rose to put on his shoes, a chair appeared in the corner of the small room for him to sit on. She stared at him, and hope was starting within her.

He opened his wallet, and put out the money previously agreed, more for the morning's pleasure, and doubled it. He always had plenty of money, and this girl needed it.

She was looking at him, worried. He had offered hope. Was he just going to leave now?

"Join me for breakfast somewhere?" he suggested. And she leapt at it. It needed a little coming to terms with. She dressed then, and they found a place to eat. He paid for it, of course. She was a prostitute. Her time was expensive. But she was beginning to forget that she was a prostitute, and he told her a little more of his home that, if she wanted, she could make her home.

He warned her again - if he took away her physical heroin addiction, she could easily overdose if she yielded to the mental addiction. And, to be fair, he also mentioned that he could just take away her physical addiction, and leave her where she was. He didn't want to do that. He thought she needed to get right away.

He asked her again. "Do you want to come with me?"

She looked down, and said, in a low voice, "Yes, please."

She took just an hour to pay her flat up to date, say goodbye to a couple of friends, and pack. She watched him all the time, and listened as he rang his home and said that he'd be back soon. He was certainly careful to keep them informed, and he mentioned, just by the way, that if he were to get sick and die, that it would make no difference to her place, she would have a job as long as she wanted. She must not talk about magic, though, or give away information about him if anyone should ask. She still kept him in sight. She was frightened that he'd vanish from her life as suddenly as he had arrived in it.

He checked with her again, and warned her again before he removed the physical addition to heroin. He could do nothing about a mental addiction without interfering in her mind, and he refused to do that. Then he looked at her suitcases, and they vanished. Lastly, he wrapped an arm around her, and they were in the apparation zone on his estate, a distance from the house for security reasons.

She looked around, breathing fast in shock, and suddenly sat, putting her head forward between her knees. Kevin, wearing his cape for warmth, approached, grinning in amusement. What had the boss brought back now?

Bill Forrester was not displeased this time. Chris and Peter were spending so much time in the house looking after Harry, that he didn't mind the idea of another worker. Even a skinny girl might help.

Harry continued doing his spell-breaking sessions with Hermione, a full list now. There didn't seem to him to be any difference in his abilities, on the other hand, none of them had been difficult. His patients were routinely warned that his health was uncertain, and that sometimes the list would have to be cancelled. It was too bad. For his patients, it was Harry or no-one.

Another nightmare, and another series of attempts at controlling the symptoms. Peter had been on watch, and Ben was called when it was seen that it was out of control. Ben found him frantically pacing the floor, and the monitor warned of an imminent fit. Rather nervously, Ben got out his wand. He was going to stun Harry, as he'd seen his mother do several times.

Harry was pacing, taking no notice of Peter and Ben. He had his head in his hands, almost tearing his hair. This was unbearable! But when Ben hurled the stun spell, he spun, held out his hand, and deflected the spell. He was quivering, looking blankly at Ben, who had tried to help him.

Ben had his mouth open. Had his mother told him about this? No-one could deflect a spell with their bare hands. Harry tried to apologise, but fell jerking in a fit instead, the first since the battle had resumed.

He was quiet for a few hours, but then he went straight back into an uncontrollable state of physical excitement. Hermione stunned him this time, making sure that he was warned so that he would not bat the spell aside.

They watched the monitor for a while, conferring. LV 245. Where was it going to end? And if Harry was right about it being related to magical power, what could Harry do now?

Blessedly, stunning usually gave him a few days of peace.

He took no further notice of Chrissy, except to greet her in a friendly fashion when he ran into her, as he did to all his workers. She was allotted one of the small worker's cottages, and given work by Bill. She was rather skinny, though, and not very strong, and Margaret had her eye on her. Maybe she'd make a better assistant to herself, just as soon as she'd proven herself trustworthy. It was all right for the boss, he just landed them with his strays, and casually expected Bill or herself to look after them afterward!

Chrissy was relieved. No matter what he had said, she'd expected that when he called, she would have to be available for his use. As it was, she made full use of her second chance, and scarcely even went off the estate for weeks. She did what she was asked, as best she could, adopted one of the latest litters of kittens as her own, and didn't go to bed with anyone at all for over two years.

**x**

There were setbacks, but Harry was gradually gaining control. As long as he caught the warning symptoms, he could almost always control the condition now. The continuous rise in LV was slowing down. 253 now. Maybe it would soon stabilise.

He was always out in the afternoon, for a couple of hours, and was often out in the evening as well. His need for sex had become greater than before, and if he missed out, he was in trouble again. The series of girlfriends he had always had, continued, but it was no longer enough, or certain enough. He now had a daily 4.30pm appointment at his Paris brothel, where he went back to his same favourite girls again and again.

Eventually Margaret was asked just to pay the account when it came, GBH Enterprises, Paris. Margaret asked no questions, but pointed out after a time that if his expenses continued so high, he would need to raise his income.

He started thinking about doing overseas trips again, and asked Margaret whether he should ask for more money for them. Margaret definitely said that he should, that he was only being paid what an ordinary healer gets. He should demand four times that much. Harry ran his hands through his hair. Maybe Margaret should do it for him, he was always hopeless at things like that.

Margaret was looking at him, remembering that when he'd started, they'd been scarcely paying him at all, and she said what Harry had been thinking, that if he liked, she would do the negotiating for him. He looked at her with an air of vast relief, and said, "Would you? and then, very sincerely, "I'd be very grateful."

She smiled to herself. For the greatest wizard in the world, he certainly had his weaknesses!

Hermione said that he should wait a while yet, maybe after Christmas. She also said that he should insist that he have his own healer, herself. Harry looked at her in surprise. What about her practice? But she said that Ben would look after the practice, and she really fancied the idea of travelling, she and Ron had never done much.

"Ron too, Would he come?" Harry asked, very pleased, thinking with anticipation of spending more time with his oldest friend.

Hermione's list was greatly expanded by overseas clients now. It was quite a while since that four week stint in January.

Another nightmare, another time that he failed to control the trembling excitement of his body. This time, he tried to stun himself. He could do it to others, and he knew he was about to fit if something wasn't done, and there was no-one about. He didn't have the control that he needed. Although he could stun others with a thought, he nearly killed himself.

John found him scarcely breathing, on the floor close to the swimming pool. Hermione was called. He recovered, but it took several days. He never tried that again. Maybe a fit was better than dead.

LV was still rising, but slower now.

He was getting better. Every day, usually after breakfast, he spent a couple of hours in meditation, and now when the readings started spiking, he could almost always control it himself. He still always wore the watch sensor, and mostly forgot it was there, but his healers could check on him, as long as he was not more than a few miles away. They thought it was a great idea, and Harry was still too conscious of the risk of fits to worry about his privacy.

In the third week in November, he made the first move to arrange a resumption of his overseas trips. He was distracted when he went to his desk. There were the Pardon papers in his drawer, and he had to look at them again. By unanimous vote of the Wizemgamot! Did this make him respectable again? He didn't quite think so, but at least he could vote now, although he wasn't sure about that. No-one had told him.

But then he remembered what he was at his desk for, and started to write out a list of conditions for Margaret to negotiate for him. That they had to understand that his health was uncertain, and that sometimes work would have to be postponed, that the host country had to be made aware of that, that he had his own healer and would not have a Ministry healer, and that he had to be paid more - his expenses had risen lately, although he didn't say that was because he went to a high-priced Paris brothel every day.

To his regret, Ron had decided not to go. Ron was sixty-two - the same age as Harry and Hermione, but Harry, of course, was different. Harry was really better with the young aurors like Anthony and Craig, who could walk long distances, or romp and play in the sea.

By the end of November, it looked like the LV had finally stabilised, at 270. For months, Harry and his healers had been regarding it as only an indicator of risk of epileptic fits, now Hermione, at least, started wondering what its other significance was? Could he work even stronger magic? Would he have a greater endurance, or heal quicker when injured? Or was it as meaningless as Harry had insisted it was long ago, when she had first purchased that Nisco monitor.

In the middle of December, Harry appeared in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. This time, when he asked the clerk at the reception desk to send word to Kingsley that he was there, it was done instantly, and Harry was treated with an obsequious respect that he really didn't relish. But Kingsley came to greet him, and whisked him off to his office. He was asked about his health, and as it was a serious question, Harry answered it seriously. His health was uncertain, but he seemed fine for the moment, and still gave no details when pressed.

When Kingsley asked about the overseas trips, Harry leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head in an expansive air, and said casually that his representative, Miss Margaret Brown, was in Stan's office negotiating terms. Kingsley stared and laughed. He remembered a fuss within the ranks, several years before, when it had come to light that Harry's pay for his time was ridiculously low. Harry had apparently not noticed for several months. All he usually asked was that he should be at the beach whenever possible.

Kingsley said then, "I'll take you down to Mark, and you can tell him who you want with you."

"You don't want to wait? See if Margaret's conditions are agreed to?" and Kingsley heard: _Margaret's_ conditions, not Harry's?

But Kingsley said what Margaret had told Harry, he was the only one in the world, he could ask a lot!

"Kingsley," said Harry, looking away, embarrassed, "That Pardon. - Just wanted to say: - Thank you." And he looked up briefly, blushing slightly - would he never grow out of that? "It means a lot."

Kingsley looked at him, a crooked smile on his face, "Harry, where's that Swedish medal."

Harry looked blankly at him for a moment, "Oh, that!" and he reddened a touch more, "It's in a safe place - I think."

Kingsley said teasingly, "It _is_ one of the highest awards they could have given you!"

Harry gave a smooth reply, "And I'm very grateful to them - a great honour." But he still wasn't sure where it was.

It was good to see his friends, and they were pleased to hear that the overseas trips would probably resume. Even when he was hardest to look after, Harry was fun. He looked happier now, too, and they thought that he might be over the death of his wife, and willing to make their jobs easier. Harry had no specifications to make about bodyguards, but Mark watched as his eyes followed a young woman, and took note. There would be no women aurors assigned to Harry Potter.

Beth arrived home for Christmas, and hugged her father. He looked unchanged, except a bit thinner after his struggles of the past months. He wasn't as unhappy, either. He was still lonely, but no longer with the desperate loneliness that had him ignoring the danger signals when his relationship with Heather started to cause him damage.

He was very aware of himself, and still wore the device that he had made. It just looked like a watch, but in his room was a dull red leather-bound book that he sometimes opened. Healer Weasley called in every few days, too. Beth liked the lanky redhead, and, unusually, he seemed to like her, at least enough to greet her with courtesy and to make casual conversation when they bumped into each other. Beth didn't ask much from people. She thought that made him an exceptional person.

***chapter end***


	14. Chapter 14

_Notes__: Healer Ben Weasley is the son of Ron and Hermione. Harry's staff include Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, Jimmy, who looks after the horses, John, general worker, Chris and Peter Barnes. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 14:_

Zack, Eli, Jebedee, three very competent and experienced aurors, and Anthony to keep him amused. Mark had put a lot of thought into the choice of aurors. There was still that doubt about Harry's health, and possibly his stability, if not sanity. Kingsley and Mark very much wished that Therese was going, rather than Healer Granger. Healer Granger regarded Harry's health as private, and didn't report to the Ministry.

Harry met Hermione in the atrium, and walked with her to the room where the aurors had gathered. Mark was with the aurors, too, and as Harry regarded the selection of aurors, he raised an eyebrow at Mark, "Expecting trouble?"

Mark just said casually that he knew he liked his friends with him, and asked about his health. Harry said just as casually that he was fine.

Sweden, and they were greeted by a wizard who thought that he should make a speech to Harry Potter, and there was a polysyllabic phrase after that, that Harry missed.

"What's that?" he murmured to the translator next to him.

But the translator was rather shocked. "That's the award you were given. It's a very high honour!"

Harry said a lame, "Oh." and went back to quietly fretting in his impatience. At last he was finished, and Harry said, "Thank you, you're very kind," and casually turned away, so that his bodyguards had to follow. And two witches and a wizard found that there was no audience left for their own speeches.

Jebedee was laughing, but rebuked him as they found their rooms. One had to put up with these things. But Harry said that his health was uncertain, as they very well knew, and that speeches were bad for him!

Hermione who didn't like standing for too long any more, was actually quite pleased with him for cutting short the quite unnecessary verbiage. And Harry was unique - it was not as if he ran any risk of being fired!

Harry went off to his room for a while after that, there was an hour free before lunch. Hermione, in her own room, opened the book monitor, and was able to check him without him even knowing. She really liked this system, but wondered how long he'd put up with it once he stopped being frightened of fits.

After lunch, the work proceeded in its old routine. Mark had rostered Jebedee to stay in the room with Harry, but Jebedee was in charge here, and loathed the feeling of strong magic in the air that Harry generated sometimes, so made a change. He was on guard outside, Zack too, Eli was with Harry, and Anthony was at the hotel, resting. Anthony would be doing the evening and night shift.

Eli was watching Hermione curiously. She sat at her desk, seldom doing anything at all, every now and then glancing at an open book in front of her. The Swedish Coordinator ushered in one spellbound person after another, and briefly told Harry what was wrong, and how long ago the spell had been put on. Usually it was perfectly obvious what was wrong, and Harry only listened out of courtesy, before waving his wand, and fixing the person. After the first few, Eli decided the Swede wasn't firm enough removing grateful clients afterward, they were being slowed down, so he took over that job himself.

A few times, a tingle in the air was felt, as Harry had to put in a little more effort than normal, and he wondered why he'd been inflicted with that problem caused by a high LV. He didn't seem to have any more power than he'd had before, and no-one could ever tell him exactly what it was supposed to measure in any case.

It was soon noticed that Harry always went out around 4.30pm. Hermione, knowing his illness very well, suspected that she knew what he was doing at these times, and was wondering how to tactfully offer him a certain potion instead. He was out of range of the monitor, of course - the brothel was in Paris.

Wednesday, Eli noticed the red book unattended, and immediately crossed to it, opened it, and did his best to memorise the readings. But Harry had seen him leave the small gathering outside, and followed him. The book abruptly slammed shut. Eli whipped around, wand in hand. He had the quick reactions of an auror.

Harry regarded him coldly. "That's private."

Eli apologised, but he was not repentant. He was doing his job. Eli was a trained auror, and remembered most of the figures. A report went to Therese, but there had been no explanatory labels on the readings, and Therese could not make any sense of it.

Eli apologised again later, as Harry stared away into space, but Harry only shrugged and said, "I know aurors like to spy." That afternoon, he was not willing to listen when Anthony suggested the sort of activity that he normally relished. Instead, he said he was going out, and didn't want to be followed. Jebedee rebuked Eli - not for prying, but for being caught.

Harry was back for dinner, and afterward, had a word with Hermione, and they went to her room for a little while. The next time Eli saw the monitor unattended, it showed only a portion of Genesis, copied from a Gideon's bible.

Thursday, Hermione had murmured to him at morning tea time, and he had looked with her at the monitor readings. Without any explanation, he had gone to his room for an hour, and held everybody up. Hermione was in her room, too.

When he emerged, he knocked at Hermione's door, and raised an eyebrow at her. She nodded, and they resumed work. The aurors were intensely curious, discussed it endlessly among themselves, but came to no conclusion, and were soundly rebuffed when they questioned Hermione.

The spikings in the readings showed again later, and again Harry was able to control the condition. It came back, stronger again in the afternoon, but there were only a few patients to go, and Harry proceeded. A difficult patient came up, and was put back to last. Hermione and Harry were involved in intense but quiet discussion, and Eli was wondering if they planned to postpone that last one.

But then they took up positions again, and the last patient was led into the room. Hermione carefully explained, and the Coordinator translated. A frightening feeling in the air. The wizard must be brave and not run. That no-one must interrupt the great wizard as he worked.

The power rose in the air, and Eli watched Harry. Surely he had been trembling there for a moment. Whatever the matter with him was, his power seemed unaffected. He had his wand raised, an expression of calm concentration on his face, and the wizard in front of him looked terrified. He didn't run, and abruptly his problems vanished. Harry sat down for a few minutes, and then crossed to Hermione to check the readings. The pronounced spiking had vanished, and they smiled widely at each other.

That evening, Harry was in high spirits - he thought that when he struck problems, he had only to generate a bit of strong magic, and he'd be all right again, and he went walking with Anthony, laughing and joking. Zack followed at a distance.

They sat at a bar, later that evening, Anthony and Harry, deep in conversation. Harry had mentioned that he'd gone to school with an Anthony Goldstein, and Anthony had said that that would be his Uncle, who'd died before he was born.

Harry's eyes were roving. There were two women over there, looking around. He asked Anthony if he was on duty at the moment, or could do what he wanted. Anthony, seeing where Harry was looking, said regretfully that they were always on duty on these trips, and offered to wait at a distance if he wanted. But Harry said No, they might go back to the hotel.

Five minutes after they followed him back to his room, however, he was back in the bar, alone, and smiling at the women. He spent the night at their flat, having a wonderful time, and when he was missed in the morning, Hermione could tell Jebedee that he was close, and was fine.

He turned up in good time for work after another romp. But there was no time for the morning meditation he usually practised. He seemed stable, and the last dozen patients were completed easily by lunch.

On the plane back, he was aware that he needed some quiet time to keep his condition under control, and he tried to meditate while they travelled. But there were constant interruptions, and he looked at Hermione, who checked her monitor, looking back at him with worry on her face. He stood for a moment, restlessly. He was tempted to apparate, but no-one had ever attempted that from an aeroplane in flight that he knew of, and he decided not to be so rash. They were travelling first class, on an ordinary commercial flight. His legs were screaming for activity, and he prowled up and down the aisle a few times until the stewardess politely asked him to sit.

Hermione was now watching the monitor constantly, and Jebedee and Eli were watching them both. Harry had started to tremble.

He leaned his seat back, put a magazine over his face, and pretended to sleep, and Hermione saw with relief, that he was managing to bring it back under control. The threat of a fit receded.

He wasted no time returning home, and went for the fast, hard walk his body craved. He was still having trouble, and decided to try that new weapon. So he stood in his bedroom, and generated a field of very strong magic. He built it up and up. The feeling of the strong magic he could generate never hurt himself, although it could hurt others, and this time it was very intense. Maybe because there was no focus, when he allowed it to die down, instead of resumed calm in his body, he fell in a violent fit, the first time for months.

Chris and Peter no longer lived in, and he was no longer watched over as closely. There was no-one else in the private area of the home. When he came around, he only managed to stand, and start toward the door, and was straight back into it, as violent as before. He struggled into the lounge room, then and made it to just outside Margaret's office, and Margaret and Chrissy found him there, jerking uncontrollably for the third time.

Hermione was called then, and a stunner finally gave him relief.

All his staff knew that he had fits now, although only those involved in looking after him had seen them. Margaret and Chrissy were shocked. It made Chrissy feel very insecure, too. She was very much enjoying her new job in the office. She remembered, though, Harry's words, that even if he became sick and died, her position would be secure, and Margaret said, too, that she was sure that the household would be maintained - that there was Beth, and there were other children.

This was the worst attack that Harry had had, but each time, he knew a bit more, and could better avoid or overcome them. He knew now that being confined in an aeroplane was dangerous for him, that making strong magic with no purpose didn't help, and that it was still essential to have his hour of meditation in the morning, and more if he needed.

He took several days to recover from this attack, and he missed an appointment in Paris, and cancelled a couple more, satisfying himself with a local girlfriend who had been around for months. But Ben came across him on Tuesday, talking on the phone, finishing with the words, "Clarice?" and, "Bon!"

He put down the phone looking happy, and Ben remembered the job that his mother had delegated. Rather awkwardly he tried, "There's a good potion, you know, if you find you have an excessive need for sex these days,"

But Harry looked at him, eyes gleaming, and said, "Now, Ben, what would you prefer, some foul tasting potion - or Clarice?"

He had to modify the spell on the monitor again then, so that Ben as well as Hermione and himself could see the figures rather than a portion of the bible. Ben also had his assortment of other monitors and devices, too, and told him again he was too thin. Harry thought that he'd heard that all his life, they always said he was too thin!

He was still not quite himself on Wednesday, but completed his list without incident. The only surprise was that Eli was rostered on to be with him, and Zack outside, instead of the junior aurors they usually assigned to this simple job. Mark and Kingsley were worried. They wanted more information. Harry, too, had been concerned the previous Friday. If he found himself fitting, with no-one who knew what to do, he thought he could go on fitting until death or irreversible brain damage. And he so hated to fit!

When Eli said that Kingsley was asking him to go to see him, he agreed without problem.

Kingsley was blunt. "Just what's wrong with you, Harry? We need to know." But he was surprised when Harry was apparently prepared to answer, although Harry didn't tell him everything. He just said that he had nervous attacks, that if he wasn't able to cut them short, he started fitting, and sometimes the fits just seemed to go on and on. That rather than have that happen, it was better for his healer to stun him.

Kingsley sat regarding his friend. This sounded very serious. And at least some of the aurors should know the problem. What if they found him in that state, and neither Ben nor Hermione was available?

Kingsley touched a button on his desk. Kingsley knew Harry very well, and when Harry leaned against the wall, and put on an expressionless face, it usually meant that he was thoroughly uncomfortable. He decided to do what Amelia, a Minister for Magic years before, always did with Harry - get around him with good food. The young woman who responded to his signal was asked for an afternoon tea for half a dozen people. And then Kingsley started carefully telling Harry that his bodyguards had to know. Harry didn't want them all told. It was embarrassing, and anyway, it might never happen again, he was better at controlling it all the time. He would agree for those in charge to be told, and asked if it were possible to have one of those familiar ones on the team each time - Zack, Eli, Jebedee. Mark and Therese? Harry nodded. Bedwin? Harry hesitated and nodded again.

The people named were sent for, and Harry checked his watch. Kingsley thought that it was an indication of a desire to escape. But Harry was resigned to this, and was just thinking of a 4.30 appointment.

The afternoon tea and most of the named people arrived at the same time. There were a couple of stragglers, and Mark, Zack, Eli and Jebedee were already drinking coffee, eating, and silently speculating on the reason for this unexpected treat, by the time Therese, Jodie, and Bedwin turned up. Jodie hadn't actually been invited, but it was known that Harry was there, and Therese had brought her. Harry made no objection.

Once they were all there, Kingsley didn't ask Harry to explain again, but repeated what Harry had told him. Harry just stared into the distance feeling thoroughly uncomfortable, the afternoon tea not having helped much. Therese wanted to ask questions, but he just shrugged and said that his own healers looked after him very well. His colour was heightened again, and he said please not to tell everyone, that he had only agreed in case he was in trouble, and there was no-one around to help.

Kingsley, with a glance at him, repeated that no-one else should be told, and Harry was relieved. There had been worse embarrassments, but still...

Jebedee put the question that was running through all their minds. If he was in that state, were they to stun him?

Harry nodded, only half looking at him.

Bedwin said then, "How on earth are we to do that? You're the best fighter ever?"

Harry grinned, even through his embarrassment. "You warn me. If you try and get me in the back, it might be you that gets stunned!"

They laughed. Harry's fighting abilities were legendary.

Harry added, reddening, "I don't become irrational, you know, just terribly nervy, and needing to move."

"Like that day when you were fighting a whole street gang?" asked Zack.

"Sort of, but that was an attempt to control it. A fight worked well for a while - but I don't get into fights any more," said Harry.

"Why not?"

"Hermione told me it was barbaric," said Harry, lying. And then he added, "Look, it'll probably never happen again. I'm much better at controlling it these days."

Therese asked, "Will you let us have a look at you?"

Harry said baldly and without apology, "No." He checked his watch again, and said that he had an appointment. "Anything else, Kingsley?"

Kingsley said no, but also stood, and went with him to the door, and, for a second, touched him on the shoulder, "It could have been worse."

Harry grinned, more naturally this time, "Yeah, I know, you thought I might be mad."

Kingsley was rather pleased with his departure. It meant that they could discuss any potential problems without Harry present. Kingsley thought that Harry's ears must be burning, but Clarice was soon taking all of his attention. That night, after the embarrassing admissions he'd had to make, he decided that he needed some extra care and attention, and arranged to stay the night, being able to cuddle Clarice as long as he wanted.

Clarice was always pleased when he did this, she liked Harry very much, and it meant that she didn't have to worry about any other customers.

Middle-aged Marie, in charge, just noted it down, and the bland and uninformative monthly account arrived in the mail in due course for Margaret to pay along with the other bills.

Harry rang home - he didn't want to worry those people who tried so hard to watch out for him.

The next week, Mark allotted Zack, Anthony and a couple of young aurors to Harry. He was less concerned now that he had a good idea what the problem was. Harry noted the change, and guessed immediately at the reason - he hadn't realised they were so worried. But Harry Potter, insane, was a fearsome thought, and one that several of the aurors had contemplated in the last months.

There were no problems for that week. He was alert for early indications of spikings in the readings, and took action immediately when the warning signs appeared.

As the months went by, Harry became better and better at controlling the symptoms, and maybe his body, too, was adjusting to the change in its physiology. He sometimes thought that those embarrassing admissions he'd made, had been unnecessary. The problem wasn't gone, but it was like the old handicap, the problem with his balance. He learned to accommodate to it, and after a while, it was only in special circumstances that it became a problem.

In July, Kingsley resigned, and Harry had his vote for the next Minister for Magic. His choice was not elected. Instead, a woman called Beatrice Rutherford was elected. Mark also retired, and was replaced by Trevor Jackson.

Stan McMillan, head of Department of International Cooperation was still in his position, but Sandra Darke, the Coordinator for his overseas trips, was promoted, and replaced by a young woman called Sarah Creevey. Sarah adored Harry, even with that faint air of 'Bad boy' that still hung about him.

Harry took a break during the school summer holidays, enjoying the company of Beth. And Beth enjoyed his company. At school, she often went weeks and scarcely spoke to anyone at all. She was still mostly ignored, but she thought that better than being attacked, and was not actively unhappy. She had friends among the female centaurs, who had a lot more sense than their males. And when she entered the Forbidden Forest, as she frequently did, she was surrounded by the creatures of the forest, and could call birds from the sky, as her father did once.

She didn't know how long she would stay at Hogwarts. Surely she could find a better life for herself somewhere.

She practised some advanced magic with her father while she was home, especially apparation. Harry had taught her to apparate long ago, although it was not supposed to be allowed until a witch or wizard was of age. But it was such a powerful defence if a person was attacked, and Beth sometimes aroused hatred. She learned to apparate silently, too, to Harry's pleasure. He was almost the only one that he knew could do that - although he remembered that Draco Malfoy could do it, too.

When Beth went back for her third year, Harry went back to his work spell-breaking. Even with the raise that Margaret head negotiated for him, the money he earned didn't cover his increased expenses, but Margaret left him alone, and organised some new markets for some of his old inventions, and the shortfall was overcome. He still had a great deal of money, but Margaret thought his reserves untouchable, and liked him to live within his income.

Countries competed for the honour of their visits, now, and sometimes they found there were really not all that many patients. There were often witches and wizards, though, wanting to meet the world-famous wizard.

Sometimes Stan would go with them, and there would be functions arranged where he would meet the great intellectuals of their world, and the aurors would listen, baffled, to deep conversations which they scarcely understood. But then he'd romp and play in the surf as if he was a kid again. He was a contradiction, and even the young men forty years his junior were fond of him, and felt protective of him. They tried hard to look after him, more than just the desire to do their job.

By the following Christmas, Hermione no longer wanted to travel with him, Ben was fully occupied with the practice, and the new management of the Ministry thought it quite unnecessary to provide a healer in any case. Harry didn't mind in the slightest. He still kept his monitor with him, which he checked occasionally, if he thought there might be a potential problem, but was managing quite adequately without that prop.

***chapter end***


	15. Chapter 15

_Notes:__ Harry's staff include____Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, John, general worker, Kevin, gardener, Chris and Peter Barnes. Chrissy._

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 15_:

Harry still brought strays home now and then.

One day, he was riding Kinship, galloping on the moors, when they came across an enormous curly-haired wolfhound cross. Harry hopped off the mare, and spoke to the broken-hearted dog, who had apparently been dumped. He presented the dog to Chrissy, who seemed an odd choice. Chrissy had never had anything to do with animals before she had come to Harry's place, and didn't think she liked them much.

But the dog looked at her and whined, and she had embraced it - for some reason, crying. The large dog spent much of its time in her office, being tripped over. He still liked Harry, and when Harry went riding, the great dog always ran with him.

He found a couple of half-grown kittens too, in the streets of London. They were covered in bruises, one had a broken leg, and one had only half its tail. He kept these himself, and they prowled his home, climbing all over him when he was there, pestering the wolfhound and getting under the feet of the cook when he was not.

And there was Inez and her little daughter. He found Inez in the French brothel. The job wasn't working out for Inez. In spite of a great beauty, the men didn't like her - she didn't enjoy sex, and was not good at pretending. But she had an abusive husband, and needed the money in order to take her daughter right away, and never see the cruel man again.

Harry had the first fight he'd had for a long time when the husband found Inez packing and ready to leave him, and found a new enjoyment in knocking down a man who thoroughly deserved it. He no longer had the unnatural speed and strength of his last fight, when he'd taken on a street gang, and broken the jaws of three of his opponents, but he was still good. This one man was a professional boxer, and Harry was more pleased with him than he deserved, for providing him with such a good match.

Hermione gave him a colossal lecture, though, when he turned up for the Wednesday session in London, limping and with a bruised face. The freshly qualified auror, eavesdropping in the waiting room, could hardly keep a straight face when she heard the great wizard being thoroughly raked down by the healer. They heard about it in the aurors' department, too.

Inez, like Chrissy, was surprised that she was not expected to provide comforts for the boss. She thought she knew men, but unknowingly, the moment he had taken charge of her and her four-year old daughter, she had changed categories in his mind from potentially beddable woman to friend/employee. Even when she arranged to be swimming in a revealing bikini, when he usually swam, he only asked how her new job as assistant cook was working out. Inez didn't actually like it much, and as soon as her daughter was a little older, she was going to ask to help look after the horses instead.

Harry seemed oblivious to her hints of availability, and continued to spend a fortune in Paris, although his visits had been reduced to usually three a week. He knew nearly all the girls there now, but usually only spent time with his favourites. There was Antoinette, small, dark, freckled, Clarice, of course, and Angelique, who had admitted to him that her name was really Berthe. Berthe had recently married, and had largely retired from the job, but came in when Marie called her for this undemanding customer.

As always, Harry wanted the girls who loved sex, not those who were, by conventional standards, the best looking. He came to be very fond of the girls who gave him such enjoyment, and when he found Antoinette one day, sitting huddled in the girls' sitting room, with bruises all over her body, in spite of the attempted intervention of the bouncer, he followed the abusive man out, and gave him a black eye, and then held him paralysed and terrified, while he spoke to him in a quiet voice, a hypnotic command laced with magic. That man would never hurt a woman again.

No-one had tried to kill Harry for a long time, and an economy drive meant that the team of aurors was reduced to two, but the Coordinator, Sarah Creevey, started going along with them, instead. Her job was to make sure that everything went smoothly, a job which had mostly been done by the auror in charge. Sarah's language skills were a great asset.

These excursions were a constant source of income for the Ministry, but more importantly, brought a great deal of prestige for British wizardry. The promise of a visit from the team was sometimes used as a bargaining chip when deals were made between the Ministries of Britain and other countries, although Harry would have been surprised to know this. He just went where they arranged, assuming there was a need for his services.

With the reduced numbers of aurors, his bodyguards found it difficult to look after Harry as they still thought he should be looked after. There was always one with him as he worked, and there should also be one outside, preferably two. And then they thought that he should always be accompanied in the afternoon after work, that one should be outside his room on guard at night, and when he got up in the night, and went for long walks, they thought he should be followed then, too.

Harry had retired early one night, after a couple of difficult patients had tired him out, and Sarah listened to them complaining. They just couldn't do it all. The nights were the worst. Although Harry pointed out that he could just lock his door, it was the times when he emerged again, wanting to go off on long walks that were the biggest problem.

"But why would he do that?" asked Sarah, who was always sound asleep at those times.

"He has nightmares," said Anthony, who was now the auror in charge of the reduced team. "And then he thinks he's in no condition to apparate. Otherwise, he'd probably just leave from inside his room, and we'd never know he was gone."

"But a nightmare's just a nightmare, surely he can just go back to sleep," said Sarah.

"You haven't seen him then. He looks awful, and sometimes, he's shaking!" said Anthony, and twenty year old Bernard, with an air of wisdom, put in: "He's high strung - you've got to expect that in a great wizard."

Sarah thought about it. At lunch the next day, Harry was in a deep discussion with an Acromancy professor who had visited. After work, he swam, and played with some children he had struck up a friendship with. When he returned, she was still watching him, speculation in her eyes. It seemed strange to her that he would get himself into the state they described from a mere nightmare. He had a beautiful body, the various scars somehow adding a hint of vulnerability that only increased her desire for him.

A half hour after Harry retired the next night, she whispered to Bernard, on guard in a chair outside his room, and he quietly opened the door and let her in. Harry had always avoided getting involved with the women he worked with, but he was only human, and a naked female in bed with him was quite impossible to resist. When Bernard, eavesdropping outside, suddenly found a complete cessation of noise from within, he guessed that Harry had put a silencing shield on his room. He smiled. Sarah had what she wanted, and he hoped that his nights would be less demanding from then on.

After that, Sarah shared his bed every time they did their trips. There were those occasions when he started fretting and muttering in his sleep, and she became expert at soothing away the nightmare almost before it had started. In the daytime, she watched the joy of his patients when they were cured, and felt that it was partly due to her. Harry needed looking after, and she was doing her bit. The aurors knew, of course, and no longer guarded his door at night. Harry just locked it, and Sarah promised to wake one of them if he did get up to go out. Sarah was easily as good as two more aurors at keeping Harry out of trouble.

A Tuesday in May, two months later, in Finland, Harry was trying to cure a wizard. The wizard had heavy antlers that had plagued him for years. They would shed every year, and he'd have a brief respite, but then the cursed things would start to grow again. The man was very big, affected a costume of dragon hide, and strutted with an aura of bravado.

Harry no longer bothered to put patients to the last of the day when they were going to need strong magic, as it didn't seem to tire him as much these days. So he warned everybody what to expect - Craig was the auror, there was also a mediwizard, provided by Finland, and a few Finnish observers. Most of these he managed to persuade to wait outside. Sarah liked to watch him do his cures, and wanted to stay.

The patient stood in front of him. He thought himself a powerful wizard, even with antlers. There was a translator, and again Harry stressed that the man should just stay still, that it might be frightening, and that he should not be interrupted.

Then the magic built up in the air. Next to the large wizard in his impressive costume, Harry looked small and insignificant. But the power that thrummed in the air was awe-inspiring, and Harry and the large wizard were at the centre of it. The Finnish healer held her nerve, so did the observers, including Sarah, and, of course, Craig.

The magic was at its height of intensity, when the big man with the antlers, who looked so tough, suddenly swiped Harry off his feet with his antlers, and bolted for the door.

Harry, on the floor, went straight into a violent fit. When this sort of interruption had happened before, it had hurt his head quite badly. But this time the magic was greater, and maybe he had a greater vulnerability too. He was in a full scale epileptic fit.

Sarah watched in horror, Craig had heard that Harry used to have fits, but, as far as he knew, there had been none for years. When Harry came around hours later, he was in a small wizard hospital, with Craig in a chair close by.

Harry, confused, looked around. He was in a private room, but it bore the unmistakable signs of a hospital.

Craig was watching him, feeling awkward and embarrassed. "How do you feel?" he asked.

Harry had put a hand to his head. "Bloody awful - a hell of a headache! - What happened?"

Craig was evasive, "The patient knocked you out."

But Harry waited for more, and finally had to ask. "Did I have a fit?"

Craig nodded, looking down, embarrassed.

Harry was frowning, but even frowning seemed to hurt. "Craig, there's something I need from my room. Do you think you could get it for me?" And he described the leather bound red book, and a watch-band that was kept with it. Craig was to stay with Harry, on guard, but he spoke to Zack, and Zack went to get the items requested.

To Harry's relief, there were no indications of the spikings that were the indications of the old condition, and another of the indicators showed no sign that another fit could be imminent. He concluded that it was just a one-off, put them to the side, closed his eyes and waited for the dizziness and the headache to clear up.

Not far away, a Finnish mediwizard was excitedly discussing with colleagues about an unnaturally high LV. 115! The highest the scale on the monitor went, indicating it could be even higher! There was a language barrier, though, and the information didn't filter through to the English aurors who would have relayed it to Therese, who would have been very interested indeed.

Sarah visited briefly, saying that she was only allowed to stay a few minutes. The rest of the week's patients were cancelled, and he was to be flown home tomorrow if he was fit enough.

So Harry stayed where he was for the night, still with a very severe headache. He was treated with all consideration possible, and teams of Finnish aurors guarded his room day and night. The Finns thought his two British aurors a ridiculously small number for a wizard with such a high profile.

The following day, Harry was flown back to London, and Hermione was waiting for him. Jebedee was there, too, with an offer to take him home if he was too ill to apparate himself. Harry still felt quite ill, but Hermione found no indications of major trouble, just that energy levels were very low. Jebedee apparently remembered the coordinates of the apparation zone on his property in any case, so Harry accepted his offer. He would really have preferred that he had forgotten. His home that was hidden by secrecy and by spells, seemed to be less hidden every year.

Jebedee, with an arm around Harry, appeared in the apparation zone. Harry whistled. A glossy chestnut mare jumped a fence, and came straight to him, also a very large dog which promptly jumped up to kiss Harry, and knocked him straight over.

"Bloody hell, Jimbo," said Harry, "Mind your manners!" Jebedee was laughing as he pulled Harry from the ground.

Harry forgot Jebedee was an auror, and only remembered he was a friend, and when he invited him in for an afternoon tea, Jebedee decided to be off duty. This visit was strictly off the record.

Jebedee was intensely curious. Harry had lived here for over thirty years, and, in spite of various efforts over the years, the Ministry had never been able to find it. It was only that one time, when he'd been requested to heal the Swedish pumpkin-heads that he'd put aside the secrecy, and allowed Jebedee to collect him.

Harry's head still swam, rather, and he went to a mounting block close before he scrambled on the back of the mare, helped by a push from Jebedee. The dog, unrepentant, gambled around him as they walked to the house, 600 yards away.

A grey-haired wizard approached, and what looked like a couple of muggles, watched from a distance, all of them looking wary. Strangers were never seen on Harry's property. Harry introduced Kevin to Jebedee, casually stating that Jebedee was a friend.

Jebedee was pleased. They'd mostly been friendly, but Harry had never before forgotten that he was an auror, and a potential enemy.

"Why couldn't we have apparated closer?" asked Jebedee.

"Security," answered Harry briefly.

"Floo powder?"

"I'm not connected to the Floo Network - security reasons."

"Is all this really necessary?" asked Jebedee.

"It certainly was in the past - and you can never be certain about the future."

"You still don't want the Ministry to know about it, do you?"

Harry answered, "No, I most definitely do not!" They wouldn't know about it through Jebedee.

The door of the house stood hospitably open, and a beautiful young woman stood at the door. Harry introduced her to Jebedee as Inez, and asked if she'd mind organising an afternoon tea. Jebedee immediately assumed that Inez was Harry's mistress, not realising that she was more in the category of the half tail cat that was soon perching on the chair in which Harry sat, occasionally batting at the coffee mug when it came close.

Hermione arrived not long after, wanting to do a full examination of Harry. This was the signal for Jebedee to depart, which he did, escorted by a suspicious Kevin, who resented his curious looks all around. Harry's place had been overstaffed for years, mostly by under-occupied security guards, and the result was some very beautiful gardens. Harry had never allowed the pile of stones to be disturbed though, where Beth's snakes lived.

Hermione stayed around for a while, wanting to keep an eye on Harry, although he said he was all right again. He agreed to wear the watch-band, and even after Hermione sent him to bed, she'd look at the monitor screen every now and then. It was a lot easier than trying to get him to consent to stay still to put the old Nisco monitor on his arm.

When she noticed some spiking later in the evening, she decided to stay the night. They died off, but resumed toward morning. Harry was surprised to find her still there, not realising that there had been any cause for worry. She showed him the sinister spiking in the readings, and he worked at his meditation until they faded away. His head still ached too much for him to go walking or swimming.

Hermione made sure to speak to John before she left, who kept a closer watch than usual on him for the next few days. Except when Beth was home, or Hermione or Ben stayed, Harry lived alone in the private area of the home. But it was only a short corridor to the offices where Chrissy and Margaret worked, and not far to the swimming pool, either, that was open to the workers. So now John or Chris looked in now and then.

Harry tolerated the reduction in his privacy - he was still frightened of fits. He rather thought that if he saw a Boggart now, it would take the form of himself convulsing on the floor.

The following Monday, Harry was fully recovered, and prepared to return to Finland, to finish their work. Zack, Craig and Anthony waited for him. The wizard turned up who looked after the transport, checked her list, and said, "Everyone's here, we're ready to go."

Harry asked, "What about Sarah?"

Zack said matter-of-factly, without looking at Harry, "Sarah's not coming."

Harry glanced at him, and suddenly there was a vivid picture in his head, apparently coming from Craig, of himself jerking helpless on the floor. He flushed scarlet, and knew that he would not be seeing Sarah again.

They were treated like royalty in Sweden, and the Swedish Coordinator was very apologetic, as if he thought it was his own fault that Harry had been hurt.

On the second day, Harry was carefully asked if there was something could be done about the wizard with the antlers. Harry agreed to try again - there was an alternative method, but many people could not tolerate it.

As it happened, the big wizard, looking a lot more humble, had the sensitivity of an ox, and never felt Harry's intrusion in his mind when he used the telepathic method. It left Harry wondering why on earth he hadn't done it that way in the first place. He knew why, though. He just didn't like fiddling with other people's minds.

**x**

Harry was still lonely, and he sometimes thought that he had come too far to find someone to be an equal in marriage. As well as his great power, and a great deal of learning, he had sufficient skills at telepathy that he made more efforts to close his mind to the thoughts of others rather than to try and see what he could do with it. He still felt it a great invasion of privacy to hear what others thought. Sometimes, there would be a particularly clear surface thought that he would hear in spite of himself. However, it would often be more on the lines of _Get a move on,_ or _Nice legs_, or _I'm busting to go to the loo,_ than anything especially private.

Now there was something else. If he was seen to have a fit, it was apparently horrible enough that a woman never wanted to see him again. But surely that had been a one-off. He had it under control, didn't he?

Two weeks later, he heard that Sarah had been transferred, and a brash young man called Andrew Pritchard had taken her place, who would travel with them. They mostly did alternate weeks still, although sometimes, if they travelled to a different continent, they might do two or three weeks at a stretch, especially if they were offered entertainment or some touring by the host country. There were three aurors again, sometimes four. Trevor had quietly increased the allocation, now that the fuss over budget was over.

Andrew seemed reasonably competent at first, and he was an excellent linguist, but after a while, they started to notice that there would sometimes be confusion in the arrangements, and things would be forgotten so that there were holdups. He was not as efficient as the previous Coordinators had been.

On the other hand, he was a young man who was physically fit, always ready for fun, and he became a close friend of Harry's. And he was not an auror, so was not expected to report on Harry's activities, and certainly not to interfere if Harry got into a fight. So most evenings after dinner, Harry and Andrew would very quietly confer, and then disapparate, dumping the bodyguards. The aurors gave up in despair. Things had been much easier when Sarah had kept their charge in check!

Harry thought Andrew should learn to apparate silently. They could more discreetly appear in a muggle street that way, for their evening's entertainment. But when he tried to teach him, using a long corridor of the hotel one afternoon after work, the lesson extended to all the aurors, and Bernard, Anthony and Craig also learned the skill.

Harry really was a gifted teacher, and Bernard wondered why he never did it any more, forgetting the old scandal of a pornographic video, and a subsequent trial. Bernard and Anthony had been children at the time of that trial, although Craig was a bit older. There was a lot of laughter that day, and after all, bodyguards didn't really seem needed any more, as Harry always insisted. They stopped worrying so much, and just rotated nights off between themselves, as long as one was there to see him home. Their reports always indicated a closer attention to duty.

The aurors did their best to suggest activities that Harry and Andrew were tempted by - it was the best way to keep an eye on Harry. When they succeeded, all the young men would have a good time, with usually one thoroughly relieved senior auror in charge, having a rest.

There were other times when they'd sit around together after the evening meal, and talk. Harry and the aurors assigned to him on these trips always got to know each other very well.

One week in June, Andrew made an absolute mess of the arrangements, and they turned up in the wrong country. There was some resultant unpleasantness, and Andrew went into auror training, which he'd decided looked like more fun.

***chapter end***


	16. Chapter 16

_Notes:__ Healer Ben Weasley is the son of Ron and Hermione. Harry's staff include Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, John, general worker, Kevin, gardener, Chris and Peter Barnes. Chrissy. Inez. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 16_:

July came around again, and it was school holidays. Beth was fourteen. She was growing up. Her body was beginning to be generously curved, but her blunt, plain face was the same as it had always been. Her father was the only person with whom she could be herself, and she made the most of his company. She had a wisdom too, and a knowledge of people. She knew their hopes and fears, and felt a compassion for them, even when those same people rejected her so roughly.

There was no-one that Beth could talk to like she could with her father. There was no-one that Harry could talk to like he could with Beth. For the weeks of their holiday, they were inseparable, and Harry said again to Beth, that whenever she felt it was time, she could give up school, and do exactly as she wanted. There was enough money that there was no need to work, unless she wanted. She never complained, but Harry knew how lonely his daughter was.

Beth's favourite horse was Fraidy Cat, a bay gelding that used to constantly quiver with nerves. He was a good ride now, although he was still never taken off the property. The second day of the holidays, she was riding along the track that wound around the perimeter of the property, when she paused, and smiled. She had not felt such joyousness in the air for a long time. It was not her father, it was a young pair of muggles, and they were in a thick stand of trees next to the fence. The track deviated away from the fence at this point, and no-one had previously noticed that this place was sometimes used by this pair, who slipped through a hole under the fence, and filled the air with joy.

Kevin was close, he always seemed to be aware of what was happening, and when Beth slipped off her horse, and leaned her back against a tree, he came over to her. "Something wrong?"

Beth turned to the grey-haired man who'd always been nice to her, smiling. "There's some muggles in the trees over there. They're making love. I thought I'd wait until they're finished rather than passing now, I don't want to disturb them."

But Kevin said, "We can't have trespassers here! What would the boss say?" and he started toward them.

Beth quickly stood, and said, "No! Leave them alone!" and she suddenly wore such an air of command that Kevin remembered that she was the boss's daughter, and said sulkily, "Well, I'll ask Harry, then. But I think they should be discouraged from returning. You know security's important."

"Muggles have never threatened us," stated Beth, "Leave them alone."

Kevin grunted at her resentfully, and walked off in the other direction, limping slightly from an arthritic knee. Kevin was not as old as Harry, but was beginning to show a few minor disabilities, as most people do with advancing age.

Harry was amused that his place was used for romance, and agreed with Beth. They should be left alone. Muggles had never threatened them.

When holidays were over, he watched her board the Hogwarts Express with acute regret. He would miss her. He noticed that while all the other students were greeting friends with excitement, Beth was ignored. It was like she was invisible. It hurt him, and he wished that he could somehow fix it.

Back to work, which he was quite tired of. He was lonely. And, as always, he pretended he was only out for a good time. It was not that he did not sincerely enjoy his good times. It was just that it was so much less than the contentment that had filled him, first when he was with Ginny, and later, when he was with Luna. Widowed twice! He felt bitter about it sometimes.

He wished he could teach again. He gained a great satisfaction from teaching. And he wished that other people would learn to break spells, as he could do. But no-one seemed to be able to learn, even though he tried to teach them now and then. Not all the cures needed a great deal of power. Quite often, the host country would present him with a few potential students, and he would try. Just once, in Austria, did he find a young mediwizard who could break some spells that defeated the others. He encouraged her, and spent a lot of time with her that week trying to help her learn to do more. His team became a bit fed up. They worked late every day as Harry tried to get someone else to do what he did so very easily himself.

Whenever there was a chance, whenever he spoke to important people in whatever countries he visited, he would suggest that duelling be banned. If there was less work, he might not feel so guilty when he didn't do it.

Another bitter grief came, for himself, and more, for Hermione. Her husband, Ron Weasley, died suddenly of a heart attack.

Since they were eleven, there had been the three of them. Now Ron was gone. Hermione was distraught. It was so sudden. But Ron had not aged well. He had become less strong, and had become grey haired and stooped. And now he was dead.

Harry held Hermione as she sobbed. He was her strength for a while. But Harry was only pretending. He was not strong. Ben, his friend, had lost his father. Ben was strong. He stood tall, redheaded like his father, and he greeted friends and looked after the funeral arrangements. He was still only young, and this was his first great grief. Harry admired him greatly. Each time Harry had a grief to cope with, he was a mess. But Ben was strong.

The night after the funeral, bleakly, he stripped off his clothes and looked at himself in the mirror. His body had not changed. There were a couple more scars than when he had been in his twenties, otherwise it was the same. Even his face had not much aged. Slightly thin cheeks, maybe, and then there were the white touches in his hair. But they were leftovers from illness and trauma, not a sign of age. It was beginning. He would lose all the people he had grown up with. Probably only gain more and more scars until he was a neurotic mess. Maybe he should just put himself down, and he instantly thought yearningly that he would find his beloved wives if only he crossed that line that was death.

Suddenly he looked up and smiled. Beth had called to say hello. She didn't refer to his grief, or his sadness, and she had felt his temptation before. She just gave him a loving message of support, told her about Petreea's latest foal, and left him feeling a lot better.

Back at Hogwarts, Beth was thinking. Harry had been harder to contact than he had been when he had been with her mother, and she concluded that he was resisting his enhanced telepathic skills, and quite deliberately shutting himself off from the thoughts of others that tended to fill her own awareness. But Harry hadn't grown up with it, as she had. For him it was different. She was right - he _was_ resisting hearing the thoughts of others. To him, it seemed an unwarrantable invasion of privacy.

It was October, they were in Germany, and again Harry was treating the results of vicious duelling. His patients were only the tip of the iceberg. For each one he did, there were scores perfectly routinely treated by the mediwizards. Harry only saw the ones where the mediwizards had failed. He started thinking that his work was a waste of time. Maybe if people could not be cured, they would see some sense, and not get themselves cursed.

That night, he didn't give the aurors a chance to follow him, but slipped out by himself, and put himself in the way of a gang of thugs, in neo-Nazi type clothing. He judged badly, and took on more than he could manage. Luckily, he remembered to put a charm on their boots before commencing to fight, and three boots vanished on the wearer's feet before they took fright, and ran. Otherwise, he might easily have been kicked to death, as that particular gang had done to others.

He was left, bloodstained and bruised, unconscious on the footpath, his glasses ground to dust on the concrete beside him. Quite a few of the gang had also been hurt, although not seriously.

Three aurors had been sent out by Zack, who waited back at the hotel. He was annoyed, and just a little bit worried. Harry was always slipping the leash, and these days they usually just waited until he came back. But Harry had been looking rather bleak, today, and Zack thought it was worth the effort of trying to find him.

To his considerable surprise, Anthony did manage to find Harry. There was a crowd on the footpath, looking at a huddled heap. "Dead," Anthony thought he heard someone say, and his heart missed a beat.

It _was_ Harry, and Anthony thrust his way through the crowd, suddenly very much upset - he hadn't realised just how much he cared for this man. He sounded his alarm, and Bernard and Craig apparated close by. They made no sound as they appeared. It had been Harry who had taught them all that art not so long ago. Harry was alive, and looked worse than he was. There were too many muggles around to just take him away, although if it were London, an apparent muggle ambulance could have been quickly arranged. As it was, they had to allow him to be taken to muggle hospital, and liaison with a disapproving German Ministry who had him brought back to the hotel.

When Harry woke with a headache from concussion, he was being roughly examined by a German healer.

"What the hell!" he said as some sore knuckles were roughly manipulated, presumably looking for fractures, and then repeated it in German.

Zack quickly intervened, thinking that Harry might start fighting. "It's the healer, Harry. Lie still!"

Harry complained, "He's hurting me more than the bloody street gang!"

The German healer, who apparently understood English, stated that wizards who get into barbaric muggle fights do not deserve sympathy.

"And wizard duelling's all right, is it?" said Harry, annoyed. He pulled himself up in bed, moved his limbs to check for breakages, glared at the healer, and said, first in English, and then in German, that he was fired! The German took no notice of him, but started getting out a Nisco monitor, and Harry this time pulled himself to his feet, holding onto the bed a moment, and told him again that he was fired.

When the man didn't go, Harry said, warningly, "Zack, get rid of him."

Zack got rid of him, and Harry lay down again. "Thank you. I was just about to turn him inside out! I'll give him wizard duelling!" And he closed his eyes. His head was aching. But he remembered his manners, opened his eyes again, and said, "Sorry, I'm being a pain. But I'll be fine for tomorrow."

"Missing Therese?" Zack asked. Harry smiled slightly, but said nothing.

Without consulting Harry further, Zack called off the morning's work, and bought some lotion for bruising. And in the morning, he treated Harry's bruising himself, dabbing purple lotion on various bits of his anatomy, as Harry twisted to see what he was doing.

"Stay still!" Harry was ordered, but Zack was more gentle than the healer had been.

Afterward, Harry pulled his monitor from the cupboard, held a watch strap to his wrist, and checked his own signs. There was no spiking, the energy levels were down a bit, not surprisingly, but the LV was up further than it had been. It had apparently levelled off at 270, now it was 274. Still, he felt no different, and was beginning to think that there was less significance in it that he thought, Maybe it was only an indicator of susceptibility to fits!

Zack looked at the screen, and read aloud, "Uz his first-born and Buz his brother and Kemual..."

Harry closed the book, and Zack said, "What do you see?"

Harry just answered, "I'm fine, just a slight headache, and I guess the healer was right, I do deserve that!"

That afternoon, he cured a family of little girls who had all been afflicted with pig tusks by an irate, deserted husband. Maybe, after all, it was worth while.

He wore his wrist-band that week, and checked the monitor more often than usual, as he'd noticed that his problem was apt to return when there was a departure from normal.

Zack reported to Trevor, now head of the Auror Department, that a mediwizard was needed as part of the team. The conclusion and recommendation was forwarded to Stan McMillan, head of the Department of International Cooperation, who looked at it, remembered that Harry had said that he didn't want a Ministry healer, and told the new Coordinator to continue arranging for a mediwizard from the host country to be available.

Hermione adjusted to her widowhood, although becoming quite absent-minded for a time. Harry couldn't understand how everyone else could cope with grief so much better than he did. But maybe they, too, just tried not to show their unhappiness. Hermione had become more grey, and had slipped into a middle-aged plumpness. She was Harry's dearest friend, and he thought that he could be happy again if only she would marry him. When it was time, he'd suggest it.

Hermione saw him looking at her, and guessed at his thoughts. There was no way she would contemplate marrying Harry. She was getting older by the day, Harry was young, and she looked around again at the people she knew. She'd done so well matching him up with Luna, maybe there was someone else who would suit him, someone much younger than herself. His fame was a problem, it affected all his relationships within his own world, and she knew it was a major reason that he had always looked for girlfriends among muggles, where he was unknown.

She still kept a close watch on him, wanting to check him routinely every second week after the spell-breaking session in London. There were generally few patients for this, once or twice none at all. Harry assumed it was because there were no longer very old cases being referred, and many of the overseas cases just waited for him to visit their country, or at least, close. Hermione, and also the Ministry, knew that he wanted to be called as soon as possible for any pumpkin-head cases, but luckily, they were rare.

Every now and then, there were still times when she found some slight spiking in the readings, but he never seemed to have problems keeping it under control these days. He told Hermione that he always practised an hour's meditation in the morning, and otherwise, as long as he had sufficient physical exercise, (and sex he thought to himself) he hardly ever had problems. And she, too, noted, a continuing but very slow rise in the LV values. She had no more idea what it meant than Harry.

Harry Potter was of immense value to the wizarding world. Hermione had seen so many of his patients with a different life after he cured them, and she had none of the tired cynicism that Harry showed sometimes. Not all their patients were stupid young wizards who got themselves into stupid duels!

There was not only his spell-breaking. His research had led to some breakthroughs, too. That sort of mental work seemed to go in spurts. Sometimes he'd become very deeply involved, and then totally lose interest for years, even decades. And there were his inventions. A few of the devices she used as a mediwizard had been invented by Harry when he was only in his twenties, and on her desk was an attractive and very complicated silver gadget, that did absolutely nothing. She thought it was brilliant, and she was quite convinced she couldn't live without the backscratcher!

It became a bit of an obsession with her to keep him as healthy as possible. She was convinced he needed a wife. He was so much more contented and stable with a wife. But, like Harry, she wondered how he would find a wife. There was no-one left who could be anything like an equal partner. In intellect, in learning, as well as in power, he was on his own.

She was at Harry's place quite often. There was even a bedroom allotted to her, which he'd attempted to magically redecorate to her instructions. It had not been altogether successful. He'd made several attempts at doing a soft and subtle floral design, and somehow the flowers just kept getting larger and more colourfully clashing. In the end, he referred the problem to Margaret who paid a muggle firm to hang the wallpaper chosen by Hermione.

Every time that Hermione was at Harry's place, she would stress to Margaret, to Chrissy, to John, and even to the cook, that she should be called whenever there was any reason for concern. They listened to her. They needed their boss alive and healthy, and while they very much respected Harry, and would unquestioningly obey Harry in most things, where it was a question of his own health, he sometimes found himself over-ruled.

Hermione, at sixty-four, had largely retired from her fulltime practice, but was in frequent demand as a consultant. Her expertise, generally, and in her special field, was very much respected. People thought it only natural that the great Harry Potter would have the best healer, not realising that Hermione had appointed herself as his healer the moment she'd qualified.

Harry's strays found a much better life at his place. The kittens grew large and sleek, Jimbo the dog was loved, and Inez now worked contentedly with the horses, and sent her daughter to the local muggle school. She was saving money, and had plans to start a business when she could afford it. She didn't want to groom Harry's pampered assortment of horses all her life. The elderly cook had come to Harry, and asked if she could hire her niece as her assistant, and now a plump sixteen year old worked with her aunt.

The mare, Kinship, was now in foal to a black thoroughbred that had had been a successful racehorse. Harry wanted a taller, faster horse for himself, and was hoping for a colt foal.

***chapter end***


	17. Chapter 17

_Notes:__ Healer Ben Weasley is the son of Ron and Hermione. __Harry's staff include:__ Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, Jimmy, who looks after the horses, John, general worker, Kevin, gardener, Chris and Peter Barnes, Chrissy, Inez, and Milly, the cook. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 17:_

It was now December, and the team went to Turkey. There were so many patients that they were to spend two weeks there. Jebedee in charge, also Zack again, Eli, Bedwin, and Tom. Trevor didn't quite trust the Turks, and had sent experienced aurors. Five instead of four. He was hoping to discourage Harry from any risky activities, and with that in mind, sent him no young companions. The whole team were given a lecture by Trevor before they left. No womanising in Turkey, and take great care when out on the streets. They were warned, especially, that the muggle police were not known for their loving kindness!

Harry fancied Trevor was talking especially to him. He was quite right.

He found himself working much harder than usual in Turkey. As well as his own team of aurors, the Turks cooperated by providing additional protection. There had been some odd rumours, but, not wanting to hint at any lack of law and order among Turkish wizardry, any concerns were not passed on to the English.

Monday, a middle-aged Turk brought in four young women, all with tusks. They seemed too shy to speak, some of them had bruised faces, and one walked with difficulty. One had teeth missing.

Harry was able easily to remove the problem of the tusks, but then asked the man to come with him for a little talk. The aurors watched from a distance. There was a sudden movement from the man, and they leapt to the alert, two of them with wands out. But the Turk made no more move, and Harry only seemed to be speaking quietly to him.

The Turk returned, looking a bit dazed, but not resentful. As he departed, the women obediently followed him, and when one looked back at Harry, Eli saw him wink at her. The next time that man raised a fist to a woman, he fell to the floor, gasping in pain. Within a few months, there was a quite different pecking order within that household.

Monday evening, Harry, accompanied by two experienced aurors, went exploring. He was prudent, and after feeling the atmosphere of the place, decided he didn't like it, returned to his room, and apparated to Paris instead, and stayed the night with Antoinette.

Tuesday was hard work. He still did most of the difficult cures working pure magic, but since the episode in Finland, he opened his mind to his patients, regardless of their privacy. He needed to know if they were about to panic in time for him to allow the magic to die gradually, without being hurt with an interruption. They never detected this sort of knowing, and so never resented it. He radiated calm, too, trying to reduce the fear of his patients.

But sometimes he still had to cut the magic short before the spell was broken, and then he'd try the risky telepathic cure. He didn't know the language here, which made things harder. But still, there'd been no failures since he'd been ill. Maybe he was a bit more powerful after all, even if so much more vulnerable.

That day, he'd had to use strong magic twice, successfully, and once had to cut it short and use his alternative method, but paying a penalty. His cheek was deeply scratched by the long scarlet fingernails of a furious woman.

The Turkish mediwizard had been found in the waiting room, having been frightened out of the work room the first time he felt that frightening feeling in the air. But he fished in his bag and dabbed some stinging lotion on the cut, which made Harry's eyes water. He admitted to Zack, then, that maybe he _was_ missing Therese. She may have fussed over him, even lectured him, but she never hurt him. Luckily Wizardkind hardly ever picks up infections. Those fingernails had not been at all clean.

He was tired that night, after having worked so hard. It didn't stop him having a nightmare, and emerging white-faced and shaking in the middle of the night to go for a walk. Bedwin wanted to stop him. This was no place to go walking as Harry said he had to do.

Harry paced the corridor, as Bedwin called Zack and Jebedee, and only with the three aurors would they allow him to go out, walking hard until calm returned. Zack saw that he was wearing his watch-band, and knew its significance now. He followed Harry into his room, and watched as Harry checked the monitor. There was still spiking.

"All right?" asked Zack.

"Not entirely," admitted Harry. "I might have to work at it a while."

"Bedwin will be outside the door if you need us."

Harry nodded and thanked him.

He concentrated for the next two hours trying to bring the sinister spiking under control, finally finding the readings better toward dawn, and sinking into an exhausted sleep. Zack had begun to take on the role of chief carer, and when they became concerned at his failure to appear in the morning, it was Zack who entered his room.

Harry still slept, still dressed, in his chair, and with the open book beside him. Zack looked at the monitor. _There was his concubine too, whose name was Reu'mah.._. Harry was looking very tired and rather sad as he slept, and Zack hesitated before gently shaking him. He started, looking up.

"Are you too tired? Should we cancel the morning's work?" Zack asked.

Harry said, "No, no, I'm fine." But then he looked at the monitor, betraying himself with a frown. The spikings were back.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Zack.

"Nothing, I've just got to be careful, today, I think," he said vaguely, and then in a more business-like fashion, "What I need is a place that I don't have to apparate to, that gives me the chance to have some sustained exercise, like a swimming pool or a gymnasium, or even a safe place to walk."

Zack said he'd see what could be done.

He was a bit late starting that day, and as the Turks paid little attention to the limits on the numbers they'd been instructed to schedule, he was late finishing. The frightened mediwizard no longer stayed with them, although supposed to be there to supervise. There were two patients which needed the strong magic, and when Harry looked at his monitor afterward, he felt a lot happier. It was a pity such patients could not be supplied on demand.

The threat of a nervous attack receded, and when he spent an hour in the swimming pool they'd found for him, he felt reasonably confident that he'd beaten the problem for the time being. He was very tired though, and thought he'd best not apparate.

There were some tourists in the hotel, and after dinner, he went to the public bar, asking Tom and Bedwin to watch if they had to, but to leave him alone.

They watched from the other side of the room, as he quietly drank for a while, his eyes roving. There were no women by themselves, but four women talking together, and obviously Americans. And then he demonstrated that ability he had that his male bodyguards thought the most marvellous of all. He singled out one of the women, caught her eye, suddenly radiated sex appeal, and she picked up her drink and joined him at the table. They talked for a while, and Harry was not apparently impatient, but suddenly the woman finished her drink and invited Harry to her room.

That night, it was a different door that Bedwin watched, and Harry's monitor was forgotten in his room. But Harry was always a lot more contented when sleeping with a woman, and for most women, it seemed instinctive to soothe away nightmares, or, even better, when woken by his fidgeting, decide that more sex was needed.

Ruth was a free agent, and arranged to rejoin her travelling companions at a later date. Meantime, she was there for Harry every night, and joined his group for some meals and for the weekend, when the Turks treated them to some safe touring of the sights of the land. Some of his companions found a muggle guest a bit of a nuisance, as they had to guard their tongues, and refrain from using their wands, but their troublesome charge was a lot happier, and they counted this a blessing.

The next week was just as arduous, but Harry used the swimming pool, didn't neglect his meditation, although laughed at by Ruth, and had the company of the woman, too, who was an exuberant, rather loud woman, who nevertheless kept Harry amused and contented until she received a phone call on the Wednesday morning, packed up and left.

That afternoon, Harry went again to Paris, notifying the aurors that he might not be back until morning. They were grateful that he kept them informed, he was not always so responsible. They were pleased to be without Ruth, too. That loud laugh had grated sometimes. Only Zack thought how much better Harry had been once he'd found her.

There was a far higher proportion of female patients than usual in Turkey, and Harry doubted that they were a result of duelling. They rarely spoke, and endured the strong magic, when required, with docile fatalism. Harry was disliking this country more and more, and was glad they were nearly finished.

Thursday was to be the last day. Early in the morning, a pumpkin-head was led in. Harry took his hand for a moment, to feel for the man. He was still there, still alive. Three months ago, they said.

Harry turned to the Turkish Coordinator. "We'll need an ambulance team, a mediwizard experienced in handling violent patients, and a place to take him will need to be prepared. Tell me when that's all prepared, and I'll pull him out."

But whether they didn't believe that Harry could help the man, or because they were inefficient, it took a long time for the Turks to indicate that everything was prepared. Even then, the ambulance team was not there, and Harry, having some experience with berserk ex-pumpkin-heads by now, insisted that he could do nothing until it was actually there, waiting.

It was not until after lunch, and their aeroplane to take them home, was already waiting, that the ambulance team finally arrived. The mediwizard was assured that there would be none of that frightening feeling in the air, so was in attendance, and three aurors waited, wands out, ready. Jebedee had wanted to hold Harry to shield him, but Harry refused. He'd been very sick that last time, he said. He didn't need a nanny this time, he said.

The pumpkin-head melted into a man, who clouted Harry, and with frightening speed, turned on the aurors. Two stunners bounced off him. He appeared to have an immunity to stunners. Giant blood? He was very large.

In the end, Jebedee brought him down with a fist, but not before the berserk man grabbed Harry, who was still dazed, and crashed his head into the wall. Bedwin and Tom were also unconscious on the floor. The mediwizard was hiding under his desk, and had to be pulled out by Jebedee who was the only one in the room still on his feet.

The ambulance team was called in, and used their wands to lift the rescued pumpkin-head onto the trolley, and wheel him off. A mediwizard was with him.

The shaking mediwizard who had been assigned to them, very briefly checked Bedwin, Tom and Harry, pronounced them all merely knocked out, and suggested that their plane was waiting. Jebedee looked at him with contempt. Zack and Eli were still on guard outside, and Jebedee called in Zack. Zack was more thorough, trying to check the fallen men as best he could. But not only was he not a mediwizard, he didn't even have the use of the monitors that modern healers relied on so much.

Tom soon groaned and sat up. Bedwin was not long after. Harry still lay on the floor. They put his head on a conjured pillow, and waited. The Turkish mediwizard had said he was all right, but it was nearly an hour now. The Turkish Coordinator had gone, the mediwizard had gone, and even the Turkish aurors who had given them extra protection appeared to be gone. It seemed their usefulness was over, and no-one was interested that they had casualties.

Zack felt Harry's pulse again, and tried to feel his head, feeling to see if there was any give, whether there might be a fracture. They were very relieved when Harry suddenly swore and pushed away the exploring hand. He finally had his eyes open, and looked around. Bedwin and Tom sat side by side, backs to the wall, holding their heads.

"That's the last pumpkin-head I'm doing!" said Harry, weakly, "From now on, they can stay vegetable!" He suddenly demanded, "Where are the Turks?"

"Gone!" said Jebedee, grimly.

Harry was sitting up, looking around, "We've got to get out of here! Wands out, be ready!"

They were looking at him, slow to react. "Come _on!"_ he said, "We're in danger, can't you _feel_ it?"

He was standing, swaying dizzily, and a cane appeared in his hand, making Tom stare, although most of the others were taking notice of him, and had their wands out. Harry aimed his own wand at the monitor which sat uninformatively on the desk. It vanished.

"Anything else in here? No? Let's go!" And then, "For God's sake, Tom, get your wand out! Where's Eli?"

"Outside."

"Defensive positions!" said Jebedee. Tom finally took notice, and drew his wand. He obviously thought Harry was raving.

Eli stood outside with their luggage, and he was looking tense, too. Harry aimed his wand at the luggage, and it vanished.

"Hey! What d'you think you're doing?" demanded Tom.

"Sent it home, we need our hands free," said Harry, looking very alert, even as he swayed and leaned on his cane.

Bedwin was suddenly sick, a result of being knocked out. "I need to lie down," he muttered.

"No time now," said Jebedee, who had considerable faith in Harry's instincts for danger. Bedwin started to crumple, but Eli grabbed him.

"I think we should apparate," said Harry.

But Jebedee said calmly, "Our bus is waiting. Maybe we're worrying over nothing!"

They walked toward the bus, but Harry was still looking all around, his nerves were screaming danger, but he wasn't sure of its direction.

"Are we supposed to have a driver?" he asked Jebedee.

"We're to be driven to the airport where a private plane waits for us."

Harry was staring at the bus now. "I think we should apparate," he finally said.

Jebedee stopped. "Is there something wrong with the bus, Harry?"

Harry was trying to extend his senses, almost to feel the air. He was wishing his head didn't ache so much, but still, he could feel it. There was something wrong with the bus. "It's going to blow up, I think, and there's a driver who doesn't know."

"There's no sign of danger," Tom said. "Harry's probably concussed!"

But Jebedee said calmly, "Take notice of Harry - I'll tell you some stories later."

"And there's wizards watching," Harry muttered, looking around, "But I can't tell from where." He looked back at the bus then, and a driver suddenly came spilling out of it, running.

"Be ready! They might attack now," and the little group stood in their defensive position, wands out and at the ready.

"How about we apparate to the hotel, and decide what to do then?" suggested Harry.

"Run away!" said Eli.

"That's why I'm still alive," said Harry, "I run away a lot!"

Jebedee agreed. "To the sitting room we used. We all know that. Bedwin, you be a passenger, Eli will take you. Tom, Harry, are you all right to apparate?" They both said that they were ready, and Jebedee continued in his calming voice, "Everybody, then, on the count of three," and they were out of danger, and in the sitting room they'd been using for nearly a fortnight.

Harry sat down, leaning forward in his chair, head down. Bedwin too, looked pale and sick. Tom looked all right, and said, disgusted, "Running away from nothing, that's not what an auror does!"

"Go back then," said Harry calmly, "Just apparate around the corner, and see what's happening from there."

Jebedee said, "Tom, Eli, you go then, but like Harry said, around the corner. And be careful!"

Ten minutes later, they were back. "The bus is in bits, and a dozen wizards are prowling round with wands drawn!" and Tom was looking at Harry with something that looked like fear.

"Can we go home now?" asked Harry. "Only I've got an awful headache!"

So they took a couple of ordinary muggle taxis to the airport, and flew home. Their luggage was waiting for them, much to the relief of the aurors. Sending large items distances like that was not a known spell. Harry just did it one day, many years ago, for convenience, and, since it was successful that time, did it perfectly casually, ever since.

They had a reception committee waiting for them, as they arrived at the transport bay, luggage turning up unannounced was unheard of. Trevor thought that it could indicate trouble. Trevor, two other senior aurors, and Therese waited for them.

Harry was feeling rotten, depending heavily on his cane, but told Therese to see to Bedwin and Tom first - they were her real charges, and anyway, the mediwizard had said they were only knocked out. Jebedee and Zack were talking to Trevor, but Harry took no interest.

He sorted out his own luggage, and sent it home, although only the book-monitor was important, the watch-band was still safe on his wrist. Therese grabbed his wrist as he prepared to apparate, "Harry, don't you dare!"

Harry staggered, and Zack grabbed him, too. He stood for a moment. His head was swimming, but when they let him go, he was gone. He wanted to go home. Therese was upset with him, but Bedwin was looking very ill, too, and she only suggested to Trevor that he contact Healer Granger, that someone needed to look at Harry.

Two hours later, Therese spoke to Hermione, whom Trevor had forgotten to contact. It didn't sound urgent. After all, he had been seen by a healer in Turkey, and she knew that Harry was usually quite careful about not apparating when unfit.

In the Auror room, Tom was talking about Harry. Harry had betrayed himself somewhat that day - he'd conjured a cane without using a wand, and he'd known there was danger, and even, specifically, that the bus was going to blow up. And Tom thought it was probably Harry who had been the cause of the driver suddenly panicking and running away. "To think I tried to arrest him that time!" he said, shaking his head.

"You did, didn't you?" said Eli, in an accusing voice.

"It was orders!" Tom protested.

"Orders or not, Harry's a good man. None of us should ever try and arrest him, orders or not!" said Jebedee, using his authoritative voice to good effect. There was hardly an auror there who had not worked with Harry, and there was a general murmur of agreement. Harry was a good man, and, orders or not, they would not try and arrest him. There were reservations, of course. What if he went mad?

On arrival in his home, Harry stuck his head briefly in the office to tell Margaret he was home, pulled out the book/monitor, but forgot to look at it, and lay down on his bed, closing his eyes. He had an awful headache.

Milly, the cook, checked on him when he didn't turn up in the dining room for dinner. She even shook his shoulder, to wake him, and make sure he was all right. He opened his eyes, said tiredly that he was fine, and thanks for her concern, and agreed that he would like a dinner in the private dining room. He didn't eat much, he was not hungry, but vanished a bit more so that Mil would not be upset.

Hermione turned up then, too. She wanted to make a thorough examination, but he was pettish, and just said that he was tired and had an awful headache. The monitor lay open on the table, and she checked it. The energy levels were very low, but she had already heard from Therese that it had been a tough two weeks, even before he'd been knocked out by an ex pumpkin-head.

She managed to persuade him to stay still while she gently felt around the bruise on his forehead. He didn't mention that there was another painful area on the side of his head. He thought it was too sore to be touched. He did say that the Turkish healer had said that they were all fine, that they were only knocked out.

Hermione looked at the watch-band still on his wrist, and suddenly asked, "Why are you wearing the sensor?"

Harry looked at the watch-band, and stripped it off, "There were a few problems early last week, but I'm fine now," and then he tried to be polite, although he was feeling quite cross. But this was Hermione, and she was not long widowed besides. He made an effort, and talked with her, quietly and companionably, for a while. He told her about the man with the four wives that there had been early in the week, and started to laugh as he said that he'd like to see him next time he tried to hit one of them. But laughing hurt his head.

If Hermione had seen his irritability, she would have been alerted that there was a problem. But Harry pretended, and even consented to replace the sensor on his wrist. "I might stay the night," she said eventually.

A frown crossed his face, but even then he was polite, "You know you're always welcome, but I really am fine - just a headache."

It was early, but Hermione, with an assessing look at him, suggested he might like to go to bed. He agreed gratefully, but decided to have a shower first. He might be able to see better if he washed away the sweat of the day.

Hermione would have been a lot more worried if she'd been watching him as he tried to undress for his shower. He couldn't seem to take his shoes off, and suddenly lost patience and vanished them off his feet instead, and the socks for good measure. And when the waist button of his trousers refused to undo, the trousers got vanished, too. And the shirt. It was all too difficult. But he had his shower, standing for a long time under the stream with his eyes shut, and emerged perfectly all right, a towel around his waist, not seeing her looking at him. He was still using his cane, but he often did that when he was over-tired, and it was not especially sinister in itself.

He'd forgotten she was there, and just took himself to bed, depending heavily on his cane to keep his balance. She stayed up an hour, noting that he was not recovering very quickly, energy wise, but the readings were stable, and there were no other indications of illness.

In the early hours of the morning, Beth appeared in the small apparation zone in the house, frantic with worry. She didn't even go first to Harry, but shook Hermione awake urgently. "Dad's dying! Quickly! You've got to fix him!"

It was true. Harry was very close to death. Although there was no fracture of the skull, there was a slight bleed into the brain that had begun to take away his vision and his coordination even before he had gone to bed. He'd been quietly dying ever since.

They managed to save him, Ben and Hermione, only because they had weapons that muggle doctors don't have. But it was a question how much disability Harry would be left with. He was not going to emerge unscathed.

John, Chris and Peter were all called back for sickroom duties. Beth stayed in the house, Hermione asking Margaret to send an owl to Hogwarts, just saying that Beth had been called home because her father was very sick, and avoiding mention of how exactly she had made her way home. A large room on the ground floor was converted again into a bedroom for him, as it had been long ago, when Ginny had been with him.

It was a week before Harry opened his eyes. Everything was blurry, but when Hermione put his glasses on for him, it didn't seem to help, and he told her crossly to take them off again - that he was probably blind forever and he was going back to sleep. That was Christmas Day.

A few days later, he proposed to Hermione for the third time, and then explained to Ron who was apparently in the room, that it was good to be married, and that everyone should be married. And then told Ron, tears in his eyes, that he shouldn't have died. That no-one should die and leave their partner alone. It hurt too much.

For hours at a time, he would try and explain to non-existent students how to break spells. He said that someone had to do it, because he was tired of it. And besides, he might die.

Once he embarrassed Hermione and amused Ben by saying that they should immediately send for Clarice or Antoinette or Berthe. That he needed one of them straight away please.

It suddenly seemed to dawn on him that it was Christmas, and he told Beth that she should hurry to the store-room, because there were boxes there that they'd sent home, and had forgotten because Luna died. He thought there were presents for Ron and for Hermione. There were special silks for the girls, too, but he had to ask Hermione's mum how to choose, because they all said he had bad taste.

He was correct in what he said this time, except that Hermione's Mum was no longer alive, and Beth did find unopened boxes and packages, sent home years before, and forgotten. So she took them to the lounge room, and they sat him in an easy chair, and he watched and laughed as they went through the boxes, finding an assortment of interesting things. Except for directing that some things be put aside for Ginny, and others for Luna, he seemed reasonably rational. His eyesight was still very bad, but Beth was looking at them for him, and he saw what she saw.

He assigned presents for all the staff, and Beth took note, and labelled each of the items with the name of the person they were destined for. He didn't forget any of them, right down to John's muggle wife, the little daughter of Inez, and the new assistant cook. They were well chosen.

Beth was holding up pieces of jewellery for him to look at now, and he chose a triple rope of pearls and said that Hermione was to have those. But then he looked sadly at Beth, and said, "She's not going to marry me, is she?"

Beth just said gently, "No, Dad, she's not going to marry you."

Hermione, in a chair right next to him, was red-faced, and Ben was looking at her in great amusement.

With all the Christmas presents for his staff, it seemed he'd forgotten one for his daughter, and she held up a beautiful figurine of a horse, and asked if she could have it. "Beth, my love, you can have everything you want to have." But then it seemed that he had forgotten that he could no longer walk, removed a cat from his lap, and tried to raise himself from the chair, pitching forward onto the floor, struggling to get up.

Ben called Chris, and when they started to lift him, he just said quietly and sadly, "Sorry, I forgot."

By the time a fortnight had gone by, he was a lot more himself, although he continued to say some very odd things for another couple of weeks after that. But he was now perfectly rational for most of the time, and Hermione and Ben could make a better assessment of the leftover disability. There were some very careful and precise spells used, which restored his eyesight, and others which reduced the damage that was resulting in a severe loss of coordination. He had fits of shaking now and then, which seemed unrelated to anything in particular.

***chapter end***


	18. Chapter 18

_Notes:__ Healer Ben Weasley is the son of Ron and Hermione. Harry's children, Adam Bourne, stepson, Margaret, Victoria and James, children of Ginny, and Beth, daughter of Luna. Harry's staff include: Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, Jimmy, who looks after the horses, John, general worker, Kevin, gardener, Chris and Peter Barnes, Chrissy, Inez and Milly, the cook. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 18:_

Harry still couldn't walk, and was in an easychair in his loungeroom when the Minister for Magic, Madam Rutherford, Stan McMillan, three Turkish wizards and Trevor Jackson, the head of the Auror Department, who looked very embarrassed, were reluctantly shown in by Kevin. Beth had gone back to Hogwarts, and Hermione or Ben only visited, usually twice daily, now. He was never left alone, though, as his periods of renewed irrationality were unpredictable, and he had Chris with him.

Chris was daunted as the witch and the wizards were led in, but he stood at Harry's left hand, holding the back of the chair. He was not going to leave the boss! Outside, more of Harry's employees were assembling. If necessary, they would fight. There were not that many of them, though, and some of them were muggles or squibs.

Harry looked at his uninvited visitors very coldly. It seemed his hidden house was no longer hidden, and he didn't bother with civility, as he said, "What do you want?"

Madam Rutherford was taken aback. She was the Minister for Magic, and was entitled to courtesy.

Stan, with a glance at her annoyed face, said hurriedly, "We're discussing compensation. The Turkish Ministry allowed you to be hurt, and the mediwizard provided obviously didn't do his job - but the Turkish ambassador insisted he see you before discussion commenced."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Compensation for me, or for you?"

"Well, uh..."

Stan couldn't seem to answer, and Harry switched his gaze to Madam Rutherford, "Well?"

"For you, obviously, and also for the Ministry, as they have caused us serious inconvenience."

Harry said, still coldly, "I don't want compensation, and the Ministry is not entitled to it. You may leave."

Stan started to bluster, and one of the Turks said in poor English that they just needed to know how handicapped he was now.

Harry was getting very annoyed, and repeated, "You may leave!" And when they still didn't go, in spite of Kevin trying to usher them out, suddenly there was an enormous dragon rearing above him and threatening them, breathing fire at them.

The Turks fled, unashamed, Stan, too. Madam Rutherford also beat a quick retreat, although holding onto a touch more dignity. Only Trevor was left.

Chris held tightly onto the chair, he reckoned the boss was doing the dragon, and the boss wouldn't hurt him, but it was pretty frightening, all the same. The dragon became bigger, and suddenly blasted flame at Trevor, who tried not to flinch.

"Stop trying to frighten me, Harry," he said, and the dragon reduced in size, and sat himself down in the corner. One cat still crouched on the floor, hissing at the dragon. Another had fled.

"Why did you let them, Trevor? You must have known I'd hate it!"

"They're very upset that you're hurt. They think someone should pay!" Trevor said.

Harry complained, "Did you have to tell everybody where I lived?"

"Madam Rutherford found out - I don't know how."

Harry was looking at his dragon, and suddenly another appeared beside the first. Harry had lost interest in the Minister for Magic, and secrets that were no longer secret. "Want a dragon fight?" he asked Trevor.

Kevin was back in the doorway, while outside, two other security guards watched the unfamiliar wizards, and the stern middle-aged witch, who was the Minister for Magic. They huddled together, some of them looking around curiously, others more nervous than curious. A very large dog was barking at them now and then, standing between two young women. A tabby cat sat and watched them also, in between cleaning itself.

"Want a dragon fight?" Harry asked Trevor again. "You can have the Hungarian Horntail, and I'll have the Welsh Green."

Kevin spoke to Peter behind him. "Get them to go to the apparation zone, tell them that the other wizard will be with them shortly." So Peter spoke respectfully to all the very important wizards and the very, very important witch, who felt thankful that finally someone was treating them as they expected to be treated, and they did as he said.

Young Peter made polite conversation with the Minister for Magic as he politely led them back to the apparation zone, and they were out of range of the shouts of laughter when Trevor yielded to temptation after Harry made his dragon slap the other over the face with a glove.

Kevin and Chris watched with grins on their faces, and none of them, not Trevor, probably not even Harry himself, knew whether he was entirely rational that day or not.

The story of the dragon threatening the Minister for Magic spread through the Ministry quickly, and Trevor laughed with the aurors over the dragon fight, too. Someone asked, "Was he rational?" and added, "To threaten Madam Rutherford with a dragon doesn't sound rational to me!"

Trevor was hesitating, but Andrew, trainee auror, put in, "Personally, I've often wanted to threaten people with dragons!"

Jebedee said, "My father always said that Harry has no sense of politics!" and Trevor said calmly that Harry was probably perfectly rational, maybe just a bit unwise! If he was really irrational, he could easily have done something a lot worse than make a fearsome image in the air!

Jebedee, who had every intention of taking Trevor's position one day, sent an owl to Harry politely asking whether he might visit. The owl was returned with a neat note written by the secretary, saying that he was welcome, and that Harry would enjoy seeing his father, Kingsley, too. Jebedee looked at the note. Did that mean that Harry could not even write these days?

But by the time Jebedee and Kingsley visited that afternoon, Harry was in trouble again. He'd been very restless in the morning, and snapped at John and Peter when they took too long to dress him. His legs were longing to walk, but would only flounder helplessly. He apologised when they put him in his chair, and said he didn't know what he'd do without them.

An hour later, though, he was insisting that they would help him walk, that he was sure he could do it if he only tried a bit harder. Giving in, they took an arm each, and tried to walk him along the corridor, but Harry could not walk.

John was trying to soothe him. "Healer Granger just said it'd take time, you've got to be patient!"

But Harry stamped his foot, "It's killing me, I've got to _move!"_

He stopped then, and said, perfectly calmly, that he was sorry, and to please take him back to his chair, and then he asked John to bring him the red book on the table. The sensor was left on his wrist all the time now, and he checked the monitor, and asked John to call Hermione, and ask her to come as soon as convenient.

John and Chris were acutely worried. They both knew what the book/monitor was all about, even if they couldn't see anything but bits of the bible when they looked at it. The boss was bad enough already, surely a nervous attack was the last thing he needed.

But a nervous attack appeared to be what he was going to have.

When Hermione appeared a little later, she saw that his head was leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed, and John had put a finger to his lips and whispered that he was trying to think it away. Hermione quietly checked the monitor, the spiking in the readings was present, but not severe. By lunch-time, it had faded, he was able to eat lunch, and his body had calmed.

Hermione had no intention of leaving yet, and was pleased when Ben joined her, having finished work early that day. Chrissy, unashamed, eavesdropped on their conversation. They were worried. Hermione said that Harry depended on sustained physical exercise to prevent or alleviate attacks, that he might not be able to defeat it without that aid, and Ben put in, "Sex, too, He told me once that he was always in trouble if he went more than a day or two without sex, and now it's been at least three weeks." Chrissy took note, and conferred with Inez.

In the afternoon, the sinister indications appeared again, and while Harry tried for two hours, the struggle was beyond him. He pulled himself from his chair, and a cane appeared in his left hand, then one in his right, as he tried desperately to balance. By the time he tried to walk, they were three pronged walking sticks, and he was still reeling and floundering, as he pressed determinedly down the corridor to the swimming pool, Peter, who had taken over from John, protesting by his side.

Ben and Hermione had thought there was no particular reason for concern, and were at that moment, outside looking at the horses. Ben rather liked horses.

Peter called for Chrissy to get help. Harry fell as he entered the pool room, the door opening for him apparently of its own volition. Still as determined, he pulled himself toward the side of the pool, with his hands and arms, which still had some coordination. When Peter tried to physically restrain him, Harry resisted - he needed to _swim,_ why couldn't Peter see that he needed to swim?

Ben and Hermione joined the struggle, and Ben wound up picking up Harry, who still looked back at the pool.

But Harry said so fiercely, "Put me down!" that he was put back on his feet. Peter and Ben had him by the arms, though, and started steering him away from the pool.

Kingsley and Jebedee had been shown to the door by Kevin, but were met by the small daughter of Inez, who politely showed them into the loungeroom, stated with dignity that Mr. Potter was not available right now, but they would be served with an afternoon tea very shortly.

The little girl, still acting very grown up, went off to order some afternoon tea for the visitors. But Jebedee was standing, looking away toward the source of the argument he could hear, and his father joined him as they followed the sound.

"I have to _swim,"_ Harry kept insisting, and Hermione was saying, _"No_, Harry, you can't swim. You'd only drown."

Kingsley and Jebedee watched. Harry was trembling, his legs floundering, and was held by two young men at his sides, who pulled him, resisting, away from the pool. Hermione looked up, harassed, at the two big black men, father and son. She knew Jebedee quite well from the times she had travelled with the team as the mediwizard, and she had met his father when he was Minister for Magic.

"Why can't he swim?" asked Jebedee.

"He has no coordination, he'd probably drown - and he might have a fit."

Harry's head was down, but he said, "I'm trying to _prevent_ a fit. I need to do something, and I can't walk - I need to swim."

It was not so long ago that Jebedee had found a swimming pool that Harry could use, when they were in Turkey, and he suddenly said, "I could go in, I'm a good swimmer. I'd make sure he didn't drown."

Harry looked up, hopeful. He was still violently trembling, still his body ached to move.

"I'll check the monitor," Hermione said. Harry was no longer resisting, and Ben let go of him, and followed Hermione.

Peter was having trouble without Ben's help, and Jebedee went to Harry's other side, holding his upper arm, and feeling his quivering tension.

"Can you hold him for a moment by yourself?" asked Peter. "I'll get my brother, we'll both go into the pool too."

Within ten minutes, Chris, Peter and Jebedee were in swimmers, or, in the case of Jebedee, underpants underneath conjured swimmers - no-one but Harry was ever willing to trust conjured clothing to stay in existence very long. Ben helped Harry strip off his outer clothes, and he had touched his undies which instantly turned into swimmers.

He'd apparently not thought of it before, and had been fully dressed still, except for shoes. He'd been getting impatient lately when shoes took too long to take off, and had vanished several pairs of shoes, along with various other items of clothing. He was getting low on clothing, and had only one pair of shoes left.

Ben and Peter carefully handed Harry down to Jebedee and Chris in the water, then Peter slipped in the water as well. Jebedee held Harry for a moment, then let him go when Harry made his urgent request. Hermione, Ben and Kingsley watched from the side, as Harry threshed awkwardly for a moment, but once he stopped trying to kick, and relied on upper body coordination, he was suddenly swimming fast and smoothly, lapping the pool again and again, untidy on the turns, but finally getting the exercise his body so urgently needed, even if his legs were useless to him.

Chrissy watched too, from the door. She'd already known that Harry had a beautiful body, but so did the big black man, and also Chris...

Kingsley was an old man, now, and he conjured some chairs for them to sit in. Hermione was pleased to sit, too. She went and collected the monitor, and watched as the sinister spiking in the readings began to be less dramatic. The threat of a fit was receding.

They looked up, surprised, as fourteen year old Beth appeared, still wearing school uniform. She greeted Ben and Hermione politely, and was introduced to Kingsley, who was looking at her appraisingly. Where had she come from?

Beth regarded her father, as he stroked his way up and down the pool, and remarked, "It's doing him a lot of good."

Hermione and Ben had not questioned the appearance of Beth, especially not in front of Kingsley. They knew that this ordinary looking girl was something special. Beth casually suggested that there was a very nice afternoon tea waiting in the loungeroom, and Harry was obviously fine for a while.

Hermione glanced slightly anxiously at Harry, but Jebedee, Chris and Peter were all there, and waiting in case there were problems, and she did have the monitor. She rose, and the others took their cue from her.

Jebedee was quietly talking to Chris and Peter in the pool. They told him that this was the first time Harry had been like this, but had admitted that he had not been in his right mind for a time.

"Was he dangerous? Did he work any magic?" Jebedee asked.

Chris and Peter were indignant. Of course not. The boss would never hurt them, and Jebedee remembered the scene as he and his father had come in. Harry had been struggling against the restraint of Peter and Ben. He could have blasted them off in an instant, but he did not. And the story of the dragons indicated that his powers of magic were still intact, even if his legs refused to work for him.

He stopped worrying about Harry's potential danger. If a muggle could haul him away from a swimming pool without a thought that he might be hurt, the world of wizardry should not be concerned.

Beth was very aware of Harry, although he did not yet feel her presence. His mind was filled with the soothing rhythm of his swim. It felt so good.

Hermione checked the monitor.

"Can I have a look?" asked Beth. She apparently had no trouble seeing and understanding the readings, in spite of the spell that had it showing only tracts of the bible to nearly everyone else. Again Hermione said nothing. Harry had mentioned that he tried to keep Beth's abilities quiet, that she was not an ordinary witch.

Kingsley was very interested in this daughter of Harry's, and he was talking to her about her plans as to career. Beth was vague. She didn't know what she wanted to do. She might not even stay at school all that much longer.

Beth liked Kingsley, she could feel he was a good man, and he wasn't showing the discomfort in her presence that so many people did.

After a time, Beth became aware that Harry's muscles were screaming exhaustion, though he didn't seem to notice himself. To her mind, Harry seemed dazed, unthinking, as he just swam on and on, caught up in the rhythm of his escape. He hadn't even slowed down. She asked, "Aunt Hermione? Do you think we should get Dad out of the pool now?"

Hermione looked at her watch, and rose to her feet. "Absolutely."

In the pool, Jebedee and Peter were wondering how on earth they would get him out. Surely he had had enough by now. But Beth called him in her mind, and he heard and turned and came to the side of the pool, waiting to be pulled out.

He was a lot better then, apologising for being such an awful nuisance, thanking Jebedee for his help, and flushing as he said, especially to Kingsley, that they should come again, but maybe not until he was well.

The spikings in the readings of Hermione's monitor were entirely gone, but the energy levels were now very low, and Hermione sent Harry to bed. A little later, his door was quietly opened, and a woman slipped into bed with him.

Hermione was in the library, looking for something to read. She found something, but casually checked the monitor before sitting down to read. She had expected Harry to be asleep - instead he was wide awake, and the energy available to him was suddenly high. There was no spiking in the readings. She hurried to his room, not knowing if there was reason for concern.

But when she raised her hand to knock, she quickly stopped, and stepped away very quietly. The room was not soundproof, and she blushed as she realised what Harry was doing. She returned to the library.

In her bedroom, Beth had been changing into casual clothes. She planned to stay around for a few weeks, as the next phase of Harry's illness was won or lost. But now she felt the air. It was Inez, she knew, and she smiled as the joy filled the air. The joy and the pleasure was from both of them. Now that sex was not her job, Inez was enjoying very much giving Harry what he needed.

Harry's helpers arranged for enough of them to be available for a swim twice a day then, and Inez slipped into bed with him for an hour or so every night, as well, while Chrissy looked after her daughter. They all knew about Inez, and didn't dream of disturbing him when she was with him. Harry seemed to be improving, and his legs were beginning to support him better, as he worked hard every day, at the task of walking.

When Jebedee and Kingsley came a couple of days after their first visit, Harry was able to entertain them properly, being thoroughly ashamed that they had seen him when he was half crazy with the need to move. He talked a long time with Kingsley, especially after Jebedee asked Beth to show him the horses. Like Kingsley, Jebedee was very interested in Beth, though he wasn't sure if he actually liked her much.

Jebedee dropped in every day after that, usually in time to help with the morning swim. It was with Trevor's blessing. Trevor, too, cared about Harry, quite aside from him being valuable to the Ministry. It also kept them informed.

Victoria, Margaret and Adam also visited, it helped relieve the tedium for Harry. Beth spent a lot of time with Harry, although his other children regarded this scarcely known sister of theirs with some suspicion. What was she doing out of school? Did she do exactly what she wanted? When they asked Harry, he just said that Beth knew what she was doing, and would go back to school if she chose, and only when she chose.

He didn't see James. James had accepted a position in magical research in America, where his notorious father was less known. He never mentioned that his father was Harry Potter, even when Harry had worked his cures there, and had been widely spoken of with awe.

No-one visited uninvited. They were frightened of dragons.

***chapter end***


	19. Chapter 19

_Notes:__ Healer Ben Weasley is the son of Ron and Hermione. __Harry's children__: Adam Bourne, stepson, Margaret, Victoria and James, children of Ginny, and Beth, daughter of Luna. Harry's staff include____Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, Jimmy, horse manager, John, general worker with past nursing experience, Kevin, gardener, Chris and Peter Barnes, Chrissy, Inez, Milly, the cook, Clarke, security guard._

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belongs to J. K. Rowling_

_Chapter 19:_

It was the beginning of February, and it seemed very hard to Harry that he still could not walk without help. The moment he tried to manage without a strong arm to hold him, he would helplessly reel off to the left. He was beginning to suspect that it was an extension of that old, old problem, the tendency to fall or deviate to the left that he'd had since he was seventeen, and had killed Voldemort. As well as the acute problem with his balance and coordination, he often had fits of trembling, which seemed unrelated to anything, and there were times when he would quite suddenly become tired and need to sleep.

He was no longer watched constantly, although with instructions to ring his buzzer, or just make an alarm sound if he needed someone. They had organised themselves into rough shifts, so that two could be on duty at all times. But there were only Chris and Peter strong enough to hold him. John, Chrissy and Inez helped during the days, but John was quite old.

Clarke, one of the security guards was only in his forties. He had been hired not long before Ginny had died, and was used sometimes to help keep an extra watch over Harry when he was swimming. Harry was beginning to think he needed extra help. All those people looking after him, day and night, had their own jobs to attend to.

Harry was very grateful to Inez, who was helping him so much. There had been no more nervous attacks since the first, and that was over a week ago now. He reflected that he would actually feel more secure if Beth had returned to school. It was like she was waiting for something. It was not be today, though, apparently, as she had gone riding on the moors, Jimmy Carr with her, to help protect her from possible harassment.

He dozed in his chair, in front of the fire, a cat sleeping on his knee, another perched on the headrest of the chair, when he was roused, blinking, by a draught of cold air. A big, scarred stranger was staring aggressively at him. Harry, alarmed, opened his mind to the man, and relaxed. The man looked aggressive, but it was fear. The feeble-minded man had been urged to do this by some others as a joke. The high fences and security of Harry's home had led to it acquiring an air of mystique among the locals. It was even looked upon with some fear, mainly because Harry's employees refused to talk about anything to do with the family who lived there.

Malicious young men had sent poor Lumpy Willy, telling him that he was wanted to do a job. They thought it would be funny when he was thrown out. But Lumpy had a desperate desire to be useful. He had stared with trepidation at the big house, as he hurried up the long drive, frightened, but determined. Luke and Aaron told him there would be a job, a job for him, for Lumpy. Lumpy was unmolested, as the security guards were having to cope with the jobs of Chris and Pete, and Jimmy was out with Beth. He was not noticed.

Lumpy stared aggressively at Harry. "I want a job!" he demanded.

Harry was still listening to his mind, something that he so rarely did, and he knew the fear and the loneliness, and there were images of fists battering his face, and Harry felt, too, an inherent gentleness in this man with the wounded soul.

"Please, sit down," he said quite gently.

Uncertain, still afraid, the giant man sat gingerly on the very edge of a couch.

Harry asked, "What's your name?"

The man now looked everywhere than at his face, but reluctantly answered: "Lumpy."

"Lumpy? Is that what your mother called you?"

The man searched his mind. What was his other name? His mother had died when he was sixteen, six years ago. And finally, triumphantly, he thought of it. "Willy. My Mum used to call me Willy."

Chrissy entered the room then, and recoiled, seeing this dangerous looking stranger with the sick man, forgetting that Harry Potter was hardly defenceless, sick or not. But Harry just looked up, and said, "Chrissy, this is Willy. He's going to work for me."

Chrissy stared at Harry. But she'd heard the older employees laughing at the strays he picked up now and then, and she herself, was rather in that category, at least in the minds of others. Chrissy had gone a long way on the path to forgetting the other life that she had lived in London. So Chrissy politely held out her hand to be shaken, and said, "Hello, Willy."

Willy held out his hand rather uncertainly. Had anyone else ever shaken hands with him?

"Chrissy, could you organise to get us some coffee and something to eat, and maybe some lemonade, or something like that? And then, in maybe fifteen minutes, could you see if Bill could drop in."

Harry proceeded to question Willy, but listening more to his mind than to his inarticulate answers. Willy wanted to be useful. It was what had driven him to make that courageous walk along the driveway to Harry's house. He seemed to have no real skills, but Harry could still feel his gentleness. A desire to look after things. But even in front of poor Willy, Harry was somehow reluctant to admit that he needed help just to walk, although he had known from the first, that this was the job that Willy was ideally suited for.

John and Kevin were both suddenly there, watching them, alert for any threat to the boss. But Harry just introduced them, casually, as if he hadn't immediately understand their motives.

He finally put it to the feeble-minded man. "I've been sick, and can't walk properly. Would you be willing to be my helper?"

Chris was amused to see that the boss was actually blushing, embarrassed in front of Lumpy Willy. Willy nodded, looking down.

"Well, that's settled then." said Harry. And Willy was introduced to Bill, the manager, who raised his eyes to the ceiling - a half-wit now! And to Margaret who would organise his pay, and incidentally cancel his invalid pension, organise him a bedroom in the house for now, (although he was told that was just while Mr. Potter was sick) and even organise him to be taken into town and be provided with better clothes.

Harry soon lost his embarrassment as Willy helped him to get about, to dress him, to shower him, and to help him to the toilet. Willy deemed it all an honour, and soon became jealous of the privilege, resenting it when anyone else was called upon to do these tasks. After the first day, Harry found it a relief to have him. Somehow it was less embarrassing to need help when it was Will. He'd started calling him Will after the first days. It sounded more dignified than 'Willy,' and the man craved some dignity in his life.

Three days later, Hermione and Beth wandered together, inspecting the horses, and walking through the gardens. They were in the walled garden when Hermione asked Beth when she planned on going back to school.

Beth was looking at the grave of her mother. "I think Dad's going to die. It's going to happen again, what you call nervous attacks. And I don't see how he can survive when it gets bad. Not the way he is."

Hermione protested. "But he's going fine! Now that he's got his swimming, and he's got..." and she paused. This was only a fourteen year old girl.

Beth smiled, "Yes, I know. He has Inez. And it helps."

"He's even walking better," Hermione said.

Beth continued, "Dad knows, too. Not that he thinks he'll die, but he knows that it's going to get harder."

And that night, it started to get harder. It started with a nightmare, as nervous attacks so often did. Harry hauled himself up in bed, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. As usual after a nightmare, he was white-faced and shaking. Even after all these years, that voice still came to him, _Tears, Harry?_ But the terror of confinement and helplessness had been around for many years longer than the voice - it seemed for all his life.

He used his magic to light up the room, to open the door, and to call the monitor to him. The erratic spikes didn't seem too severe, and he was relieved. He could probably think this away, although if he'd been in normal health, he would undoubtedly have gone for a hard walk. But there was something about being in bed, rather than in his accustomed chair that made it harder to concentrate, and when he checked the monitor again an hour later, the spiking was worse. He called for help, then. He thought he'd try swimming.

Will arrived, quickly. He never resented getting up at night, only pleased to be of use. Any of the others would have tried to stop Harry going swimming. Even though he was able to swim well, there were always Chris and Peter and either Jebedee or Clarke watching over him, in case he got into difficulties, or in case he fitted. But Will was not accustomed to thinking, and only did what he was asked.

Harry was helped to the pool, and he slipped into the water. He was still thinking quite clearly though, and knew a fit was not imminent. All the same, Will couldn't even swim.

He swam a long time, methodically, up and down the pool. Usually he lost himself in the rhythm, and so he did this time for a while. But the rhythm was getting faster, until he suddenly realised that he was losing control. His legs were needing to move, too, but that only led to difficulties. He could not kick with rhythm, and he was suddenly terrified that a fit was imminent.

Will was waiting, with an easy, unthinking patience. Will was strong in body, if feeble in mind, and he was pulled from the pool without difficulty. Harry was trembling again, and the frantic desire to move was not gone from him. It was so hard to think in this state, but Will wasn't going to do it for him.

Beth had felt his agitation, even through her sleep, and had already called Hermione, in her home in London. Hermione was the only person aside from the immediate family, who knew the coordinates to apparate straight into the home. It needed a great deal of precision, though, and she normally went to the apparation zone outside. This time it was the middle of the night, and cold. So Hermione concentrated, took care, and appeared in the house.

Harry was still standing by the pool, supported by Will. Harry didn't know what to do next, and Will only held him, waiting, as he trembled and shuddered, terrified of fitting, wanting to walk, but helpless to do so. "The chair," he finally said. "Take me to my chair."

Beth waited for him in the loungeroom, fully dressed. She thought this might be a long night. Chris was up, too. Beth had called him.

Harry showed no sign of surprise when he found Hermione there, and only apologised for being a nuisance. Seeing his state, she thought that it might already be time to stun him, in order to prevent a fit, but she went to find the monitor first. He had obviously been swimming, too, and when she saw the alarming indications on the monitor, she thought that Will would have to be spoken to. He mustn't just do what Harry told him.

When she came out, Will had helped Harry into his chair, found a blanket for him, although not doing anything about sodden sleeping shorts, and Harry was leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, trembling still, but trying again to control the over excitement of his body. After a moment, a cat appeared, and jumped onto his lap, making Harry start, and interrupting his concentration.

Hermione seized her chance, while he was disturbed anyway. "Should we stun you, Harry? The readings are bad."

Harry refused, and asked to be given a chance yet. He hated to be stunned, it was only that it was better than fitting. Another cat appeared, and perched himself on the top of the chair. This was the favoured position of Half-Tail.

Hermione waited and watched. The spiking in the readings stayed high for a long time, but the indicator that showed the imminence of a fit did not get any worse. After a while, the cat on his lap started purring, and Hermione realised that Harry was no longer trembling.

It was hours, though, before the spiking smoothed out. It appeared that Harry had beaten it. The cat still gently purred, kneading his legs through the blanket, and Hermione realised that he had slipped into sleep. Another of the indicators showed degree of consciousness. It was nearly dawn. Harry slept.

Hermione was no longer young, and took herself to her bedroom in the house. She was so often at Harry's place, she kept some clothes and personal possessions there all the time. Harry offered to conjure her clothing if she needed, but she far preferred to buy extra things. He didn't seem capable of conjuring tasteful clothing. Chris had gone back to bed, as he hadn't been needed, and Beth had, after a while, too. Will stayed awake. Will deemed himself to be still on duty.

When Jebedee arrived at nine o'clock in the morning, to visit and to help with the morning swim, he found Will asleep in one chair, and Harry in another, still with a cat on his knee, although Half-tail had gone off to the kitchen to beg for something to eat. Harry was looking pale and tired, and Will wasn't looking much better. It had obviously been a bad night. The monitor lay open on the table, but as usual showed nothing to his curious eyes.

Milly, the cook, looked in then, as Will had not come for Harry's breakfast tray. She looked around, but only grunted. Chris was up, and put a finger to his lips when he saw Jebedee. Harry had been awake for a large part of the night, and was to be left to sleep now.

Beth silently arrived, nodded at Jebedee, went across and looked at the monitor, and said very quietly to Jebedee that he could join her in the library for a little if he wanted.

Harry slept for another half hour, but then one of the other cats that roamed the house and grounds entered the room, and Tabitha, on Harry's knee, hissed and spat at the tabby, finally chasing it off, and disturbing Harry as she did so.

Meantime, Jebedee and Beth talked together a long time, Jebedee learning aspects of Harry he hadn't known, like the history of the cats that treated him with such familiarity, and Beth learning how her father was regarded by the aurors - a mixture of awe, fondness and protectiveness, and often with more than a hint of exasperation. Jebedee was in his forties now, and had known Harry for a long time. Harry had been Professor Potter when Jebedee had gone to school, and part of Jebedee's job, on an off for many years since, had been looking after him.

Harry found them in the library, suddenly appearing at the door, held by Chris. They took him swimming then, and the renewed spikes on the monitor readings, unobserved, smoothed out.

Harry was feeling good He had managed to sort out his problems the previous night, and surely it could not get worse than it had been then, he thought he was _nearly_ able to walk again, and would undoubtedly learn to live with his remaining problems. Fits of trembling didn't really matter very much, and even if he had to use a cane all the time, rather than only when he was sick or very tired, that wasn't so bad.

So when he had been swimming for a time, he suddenly dived, catching the legs of Peter, and ducking him. The swim turned into horseplay, with Chris and Peter playing, and Jebedee watching anxiously from the side. Had they forgotten that Harry was sick?

Harry was thinking his legs were getting better, he had a lot more control in the water when legs obeyed his will. But maybe he should try a bit harder. When they pulled him from the water, he asked Will to help him to the gymnasium. There was a particular machine there, that he thought would help.

He studied the equipment, and thought about the problem. His legs were not lacking in strength, they were just not obedient to his will. He would devise some sort of a plan for himself, he decided, and over a much delayed breakfast, Jebedee having some toast, too, to keep him company, he told Jebedee that he expected to be able to walk quite soon, and could then resume the spell-breaking stints at Hermione's, although maybe not the overseas trips for a time.

Hermione was quietly sitting in a chair sipping coffee. She made no comment.

Harry wanted to see his horses. He hadn't been outside in a long time. His helpers thought it too difficult while snow lay around, but Beth insisted he must have his way. And he had a chance to talk to Kinship, to Corio, to Fraidy Cat, and all the others. Kinship was in foal, but he asked Jebedee, still there, to help him onto Corio, who was sedate and not too tall. He tried hard, as Corio walked gently with him, but Jimbo barking was enough to interrupt concentration, and he fell to the left, unable to save himself. The snow made for a soft landing, and when Corio put his head down to him snuffling in concern, he just told the horse not to worry, next time he'd be fine.

Jebedee was quickest, and pulled him to his feet, until Will hurried forward. Helping Harry was_ his_ job.

Jebedee took his leave then, but didn't know what to say when Trevor and the others wanted to know how Harry was. In spite of Harry's optimism, Jebedee had noticed that Hermione had said nothing when Harry spoke about resuming work, and that Beth had over-ridden objections and insisted that Harry be allowed out when he wanted.

For the next several days, when Jebedee visited, he found Harry in his chair, trying to think away an attack, or pale and trembling, as he begged to swim. Either Hermione or Ben seemed to be in almost constant attendance.

The attacks were coming hard and fast, and Harry was only just able to control them sufficiently to avoid fitting. Beth asked Inez if she might stay with Harry all night, to prevent nightmares, which always precipitated the attacks, and he was a little better for a couple of days, although it was a nuisance for Chrissy, who had to stay with the little daughter of Inez.

Jebedee kept visiting daily, and knew that Harry was often no longer allowed in the pool, whenever indications were that he was too close to a fit. Once he found Harry in bed after Ben had been compelled to stun him. Being stunned had formerly given him relief for days, this time, it was less than half a day. And Jebedee was actually present one day, when he seemed perfectly all right, being helped back from his swim, when he had pitched forward, out of Will's arms, violently convulsing, this time without any warning at all.

Afterward, the progress that he had made in control of limbs and hands had been lost. He could still talk, and when Jebedee arrived to see him, he asked Jebedee not to come again for a while. Jebedee agreed, and kept coming, although not always talking to Harry.

Harry was bitterly depressed. It was awful being so helpless. He couldn't even feed himself, or do the most basic things for himself. Will was a godsend then. Harry hated others seeing him, doing the personal things for him that had to be done, but there was something in Will's unthinking patience that made it not quite so hard to bear.

It started again, and this time, Harry, instead of trying to fight it, was searching in his mind. He had only to squeeze, just there, and he would be dead. But suddenly Beth was sitting next to him, holding his hand, and he couldn't do it while Beth held his hand and told him to be brave. That he could beat it. That he could do anything if only he tried. He fought again, and again the condition eased off for a time.

The next time and the next, he managed to beat it off. But he was getting very tired, very thin. And now he never stopped trembling, and that made him tired, too.

One day, he opened his eyes to see Jebedee watching him, and said crossly that he thought he had told him not to come any more. But Jebedee just sat down next to him, and started talking about a recent case that the aurors had been involved in, until Harry became interested in spite of himself. Bedwin had been hurt again, and was on light duties, instructing the trainees. Young Andrew, Jebedee told him, was looking like being a better auror than he ever was at coordinating their trips. Sarah was back in that job, and it was definitely decided that a mediwizard would go with them next time. Harry didn't think there would be a next time.

That morning, he had insisted on trying to feed himself, and had wound up getting his face wiped like a little child. He couldn't even feed himself. If Beth had not been there, he knew that he would have ended it long since. He had sent Inez away. He was no longer having nightmares, and he hated her seeing him in the state he was in now. Every night, he would think about ending it, but Beth was watching, and he was cross with her too. He should be able to kill himself if he wanted.

Ten days after the fit that left him so helpless, Harry was again battling to control the condition when he did something different. He could no longer exercise physically, but now he allowed his mind free rein. He no longer tried to exert any control, but let his mind wander wherever it wanted, and when the excitement took hold of him, he let it do with him what it would. He stopped trembling, and his mind wove colourful pictures, explored memories long forgotten, and delved into problems that had baffled researchers for centuries. And solved some, too.

Beth stayed with him. She thought that he would die, and she would know him as much as she wanted before that happened. This was not the searching that Heather had done, all that Beth did was to listen to his thoughts as they came to the surface of his mind.

Either Ben or Hermione watched the monitor almost constantly. Harry was no longer fighting, and the overexcitement of the body was now worked out in the mind. The monitor showed odd readings, dramatic spiking, but the indicator that showed the imminence of a fit gave no reason for concern. There had been no warning of that last fit, though, and he was never left alone.

The healers conferred endlessly, used a myriad of other monitors and devices, even at the risk of disturbing him. His body was relaxed and no longer trembled. He took no notice of those around him. Even when monitors were held to touch his forehead, he did no more than to turn his head away.

For most of every day, he lay his head back, sometimes with eyes closed, sometimes with eyes open but unseeing, watching the vivid pictures in his mind. The nights were the same, and it was hard to tell whether he slept or not, as the dreaming went on non-stop. He was becoming very thin, but there were no more fits.

Jebedee, when he came, observed from a distance. He, too, thought that Harry would die. And he asked Hermione once, if she planned on ending his pain. Hermione said that Harry wanted it, but Beth would not allow him. Beth still said there was hope.

One day, Jebedee came, and Harry no longer dreamed, or thought, or whatever it was he'd been doing almost non-stop for the past two weeks. He greeted Jebedee, and asked him why on earth Trevor allowed him to waste so much time here. Jebedee said casually that they still hoped to get Harry back up to the starting blocks. Harry laughed, and said he always reckoned they treated him like some kind of a racehorse.

Problems eased off over the next couple of weeks. Hermione and Ben made a very thorough examination, touching three sorts of monitors to his head, conferring, and then Hermione told him to stay very still, and sent a gentle healing spell. It helped a little. He was at least able to control his hands a bit better. The rest, they told him, would just be hard work and perseverance. But he knew their thoughts. They didn't expect him to make much improvement, even if the fits stayed away.

One day, Jebedee casually asked him if he still had his magic. Harry pointed out that he could no longer even wave a wand with any precision. But Jebedee told him not to be so silly, that they all knew he didn't need a wand. Tabitha had just stepped onto his shoulder from the chair, and perched herself there watching Jebedee. Suddenly, a darting colourful object was in front of her, dancing and luring her to try and catch it. She chased the object, falling over herself, as Harry laughed. She finally caught it and tore it to pieces, leaving colourful bits on the thick carpet. Harry was smiling. "I guess I can still do magic."

Jebedee reported back. Madam Rutherford had a grandson who needed Harry. There were many others. It was now April, and Harry had been ill since before Christmas. He was approached carefully. They thought it still inevitable that he would die, but for the moment, he could probably work his cures.

They chose his list carefully, starting with the half dozen children, including the Rutherford boy, plus a few more from overseas. They added adults with the worst problems, favouring those who were innocent victims. They knew what Harry thought of wizard duelling. There were other potential patients who were to be available, but warned that he may not be able to do them. It was widely assumed that he would start fitting again, and they wanted to get as much use from him as possible while he could still function.

Harry agreed to the day's session, but there were practical problems. He was so terribly handicapped, now.

The problems were worked out. Harry was given a wheel chair that was guided by his magic, and could float above the ground when required. There was to be another waiting for him at the Ministry offices, where the cures were to be worked. Jebedee would take Harry. Harry had said that he wished he could have Will, that no-one else was as good at helping him. Will heard and glowed with pride, but the mere thought of vanishing from one spot and reappearing in another, terrified him. The sight of spellbound wizards and witches would probably have terrified him more. Harry had to do without Will.

Beth spoke to Inez. Harry had sent her away, but Inez was not disgusted by his helplessness, as Harry thought, and Beth knew that Inez was needed. Inez let herself into his room again that night, and after a time, Beth felt the pleasure in the air. Even when there are physical difficulties, sex will find a way.

Afterward, though, Beth felt his bitter despair. Inez cuddled into his side, sleeping, but Harry stared at the ceiling, and tears were on his face. He thought the reason he no longer had nightmares was that his life had become a nightmare. And when he fitted next, what then? What if he became a vegetable, no longer able to end it when he chose? He thought that ability was the only thing that made life barely liveable. He was to work his cures the following day, and he couldn't die in any case while Inez cuddled him. He thought maybe tomorrow night, though, and he wiped the tears from his face with a shaking, uncoordinated action, and then gently, tenderly caressed Inez. He was sure that she only came because she thought it was her duty. He should have known better. He had felt her pleasure. But he was going to tell her to stay away.

Beth hoped that working his cures would make him feel better, and she would assure him that she would not allow him to become a vegetable. She did not talk to him then. He was often cross when he discovered he had not been alone in his mind.

They gave him a sort of a swim in the morning. Will stood awkwardly in the shallow end of the pool, as they let Harry down from the side into his arms. Will held him carefully, feeling pride in being trusted so greatly. Coming to Harry had made an enormous difference to the feeble-minded man, who had been so abused in his previous life.

Even Harry knew that he could not strike out this time, and only moved his arms and legs around, feeling the sensuous pleasure of the water on his body.

Chris helped Will get him ready to go with Jebedee. It was too hard to take his wet swimmers off, so, losing patience, Harry vanished them. Chris was annoyed, and pointed out that he had hardly any clothes left. It was becoming a problem, besides being a criminal waste. Harry was silent, and this time it was Chris who read Harry's mind. "No, you're _not_ allowed to do away with yourself. We need you!"

Harry just said that Beth would still be around, and that Adam would be her guardian until she was grown. Chris was upset, but their exchange didn't seem to penetrate the mind of Will, who was trying to decide which of Harry's remaining two shirts he was to wear.

A half hour later, Jebedee apparated with him into the small room in the Ministry building where he'd been before. One of his conditions had been that the minimum number of people see him. Therese and Zack waited for him, and helped Jebedee get him into the chair, both of them shocked at his helplessness, although Jebedee had warned them.

At least he could make the chair move where he wanted, and he quietly conjured a support for himself that would stop him sagging to the side. It was at his back, and went under his arm, so was invisible. He so hated being like this, and felt shamed.

It was not far to the conference room where he had once cured nine pumpkin-heads, and incidentally earned himself a Pardon. But, in spite of his requests to see as few people as possible, he was greeted by so many he knew there, who all seemed to have business in that exact part of the building. Even Sarah greeted him, although with tears in her eyes.

He was beginning to be thoroughly annoyed, and he started to wear a black look. How dare they carry on as if it was some great tragedy! He was a bit sick for a while was all, and in a revolt against the pity he saw, he decided that he'd get better if he had to kill himself doing it - which, for an intelligent man, was a fairly foolish thought!

Hermione soon arrived, and they wasted no time. It was if they thought that he'd die any minute, Harry thought savagely. Therese was there, too, also Zack and Jebedee, and yet more people in chairs against the wall. He was an exhibition! He hoped he'd need strong magic, he'd send some to those unwanted observers, and maybe add some lightning effects. See how many were left then!

Avoiding perceived favouritism, Madam Rutherford's grandson was scheduled eighth of the ten children, just before two fourteen year old boys from Sweden.

The first child was led in, and Harry automatically raised a shaking hand to his pocket for his wand, and he felt even worse tempered, he had forgotten his wand. However, it was not the first time that he'd had reason to conjure a pretend wand, and he picked up one from beside him, rested his arm on his knee, wand pointing vaguely at the child, and the spell was broken.

He was too bad tempered today to bother with any pretend incantations. He just methodically did his work, taking no notice of the frightened children, and only looked impatient when a mother tried to thank him.

No-one had told him that one of the children was the grandson of Madam Rutherford, and he just broke the spell and looked for the next one. Hermione had her book/monitor open in front of her, and was taking notice of the readings. There was nothing abnormal, and Harry seemed to have energy to spare. The energy reading scarcely flickered when the first of the Swedes did not immediately respond to a glance, and there was a tingle in the air for a moment.

Harry was surprised that the spell didn't break straight away, let the tingle die, and felt for the spell. There was something about it... He spoke for the first time. He wanted to know how the child had been cursed. Duelling, he was told. Another boy at Durmstrang, of the same age.

Harry started the tingle in the air again, intensifying it slightly, and the spell broke. The next boy, same age, same spell. And again, Harry felt for the spell, and wanted to know if it was the same boy put on both spells. His name?

"Helmer," they told him. "Helmer Roos."

The second boy was relieved of his problems, and the Swedish professor accompanying them was vastly relieved. Duelling was a time honoured tradition at Durmstrang, but the parents of these boys had been very angry when it appeared that their sons were to be cursed with sabre fangs all their lives.

The children had taken little time, and Harry started on the adults. He was not paying a great deal of attention to what he was doing, and some of the observers found themselves under his frowning scrutiny. Harry was wondering what on earth Draco Malfoy was doing there. Kingsley was there, too, and Madam Rutherford.

Jebedee was watching him. This bad temper was unusual for Harry, and he hoped he wouldn't decide to threaten anybody with dragons today.

After nearly two hours, Hermione called a halt. Harry seemed fine, but she wanted morning tea. His normal day's work was fifty, and she thought he'd already done more than half that number.

Harry wanted to go to the toilet, but his accustomed helpers were not here, and he fidgeted in his chair. He was damned if he was going to ask Jebedee or Zack. He was just going to have to wait. But Hermione, coming back from her own trip to the toilet, whispered to Therese, and Therese nodded, and brought in two male nurses, who went to Harry, and asked rather nervously if they could be of help. Harry thanked them grudgingly, and went with them to the toilet, although snarling at one when he started to push the chair.

He refused anything to eat or drink. He had too little control of arms and hands, and would only get in a mess. He had every intention of going without food or drink until he was home and had Will to look after him.

Hermione was thinking that if she had a bad temper measure on the monitor, it would be off the gauge. She was very pleased she didn't have to bother with the old-fashioned Nisco monitor. Harry just always wore the watch-band sensor these days, and generally forgot it was there.

They resumed work, and now Harry found one that needed the strong magic that could be so frightening. He felt a bitter satisfaction. Now he'd get rid of a few! He warned the patient briefly, he was going to make that person calm with a sideswipe of magic, and he also warned the onlookers, but in a way that hinted that flight would be a bit cowardly.

Draco Malfoy rose with dignity and left the room. He'd never seen Harry look so bad tempered, and when, not long later, more of the observers came scurrying out of the room, he was pleased with his insight. He'd known that Harry was not pleased to be made an exhibition.

Madam Rutherford sat apparently unmoved. She was also a little suspicious. Was there any need for that play of lightning that had flickered around them? There was no doubt that the patient was cured, though. Hermione called a halt, then. Harry always needed something to eat after an effort like that, and it was lunch time in any case.

A buffet lunch was brought in. Harry was fixed up with a tray on his chair, but not even Hermione seemed to realise that he could not reliably raise a drink to his lips. He was hungry and thirsty, but he refused to show how bad he was, and the drink and a sufficient portion of the meal were quietly vanished. Someone took away the tray.

Several of the observers circulated, talking to him, but Harry was abrupt, almost rude, except with Kingsley, and a couple of the aurors who came in. Adam came in, too, and Harry asked if there was somewhere they could go. He wanted to talk privately.

Adam was asking him about his health, and Harry said that he was unlikely to live much longer, and he reminded Adam that he had agreed to look after Beth when he died. Also that he was leaving the property to Beth, as she was going to need a safe place.

Adam had always been kind to Beth, but had little idea that she was anything other than a rather plain and unattractive child. Now Adam was given a rather different idea, and was also told that he was not to try and force her to go to school if she didn't want to. That Beth was different and special, and would have enemies. Adam asked, "Are you sure that you can't stick around to look after her?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think I'll be around much longer."

He supposed he'd better go back to the conference room, then, but raised a shaking hand to Adam first. It had been a privilege to help raise this son of Ginny and her first husband. Adam watched him as he turned the chair and left. An auror was nearby, just out of earshot. They always kept an eye on Harry. Adam was very quiet, and left early that day. If he was not mistaken, that had been a goodbye.

Harry was in better spirits, ignoring his hunger and thirst. He had wanted to talk to Adam. He couldn't write, and he hadn't wanted to have his secretary tell Adam what he needed to know. It had also been a satisfaction to work the strong magic, and to have enough left over to make light effects, and keep the patient calm was an advance. It was rather a shame that he was going to die, he really could do more than he had been able to a few years before.

He was looking a lot more approachable, and was polite to Madam Rutherford when she went to talk to him, and thank him for his work that day, but Harry was looking very bad-tempered again as she left.

Kingsley, who had just joined him, asked what the matter was, and Harry answered indignantly. "She's planning my bloody funeral! I'm to lie in state for God knows how many days! There are to be God knows how many dignitaries from God knows how many countries! And there'll no doubt be _speeches!"_

But Kingsley was laughing at him! "At least you won't have to listen to them!"

Harry grinned, and finally laughed. "That's true - but I'm not letting her have her way either. I'll apparate out to sea. They can't have a big funeral if there's no body to bury!"

"Uh, Harry, ...do you really have to die?"

Harry didn't answer. It didn't seem to him that he had much choice. There were bound to be more fits eventually, and then he'd probably wind up either a vegetable, or dead. And he had so much disability already. He supposed he might make an effort if he thought there'd be no more fits, but as it was...

Kingsley persisted, "What about all these people today? They'll be no-one to fix them!"

"Try that Helmer fellow from Sweden. He might be like me. Nobody can break my spells, either. And he's only fourteen!"

Zack approached him then, "Ready?"

Harry nodded, but took little more interest in the patients he so casually helped. When more strong magic was required, he didn't bother making any lightning. There were fewer observers to frighten in any case.

Hermione called a halt again, and this time Harry asked Zack how many more, but Zack was unsure. Harry didn't think he had ever been expected to do this many in a day, and he was getting tired now, as well as hungry and thirsty.

Therese was suddenly in front of him, arranging a tray, and placing a milkshake on it with a couple of straws. He looked at her in surprise, and then reddened. She had obviously seen that he had not been eating or drinking. But he was very thirsty, and she even held the milkshake while he raised clumsy hands to hold it on his tray, dropping the wand on the floor as he did so.

He felt a lot better after that, although a fit of trembling took him for a time.

Hermione was kicking herself. Why hadn't she realised what Therese had seen? She knew that Harry hated to display his health problems, but she just hadn't realised that he was ashamed to eat in public. And she remembered now that Harry always had his meals in his room, with only Will to help. She, too, was getting tired. How many had there been?

But yet more people had been contacted, and were waiting in the large conference room now serving the purpose of a waiting room. According to the monitor, Harry's energy levels were dropping. It was not surprising. Just one of those patients requiring strong magic had once had him on the point of collapse, and now he'd done two, and according to Therese, he hadn't eaten anything all day.

Hermione raised a hand and called a halt after the next patient. Harry turned his chair away from everybody in the room, put his head back and closed his eyes for a bit. Hermione was in conference, and there was some argument going on. Therese tapped her on the shoulder, and whispered to her, and then Harry jumped as his chair was suddenly pushed from behind. He twisted around furiously and nearly fell out, as Therese told him to hush, that they were just going to a more private place for a while.

The sweet rolls and sandwiches were provided with a view to non-messiness, and he had another milkshake, too. Expressionless male nurses helped clean him up afterward, and used a spell to vanish the milkshake that had spilt on the floor. They took him to the toilet, and then Therese came back.

There were twenty to go, but Hermione had stopped them bringing yet more in, and told him that he had a two hour break, and he was to go to the aurors' department where they were waiting to see him. It occurred to him that it would be dark before he was back, but he was suddenly happy with the prospect of seeing his friends, and turned his chair eagerly toward where they waited.

An hour later, he was laughing uproariously with the aurors, as they played with dragons in the air. The dragon fights turned into a competition, as Bernard, Anthony, Andrew, Craig and several others had their matches. Harry wondered why he'd so seldom played with his magic. It wasn't just for fighting, or for healing. The uproar brought Trevor from his office, and he too, was pleased to see Harry looking happy. He knew from Jebedee exactly how handicapped he was now. Madam Rutherford was still pursuing compensation from the Turks, although no-one was rash enough to tell Harry.

He finally let the dragons go, protesting that he still had twenty patients to go, and suggested that it wasn't so hard. Why didn't they do it themselves? A few had a try, but could only make lifeless pictures in the air. Someone pressed on him an opened bottle of butterbeer, and he took it in a shaking hand and drank, forgetting to be self conscious about the spills, just cleaning himself after with a touch of magic.

It had been a bit of an eye-opener for some of the people there, though, and when Therese came to tell him it was time to go, suddenly Sanaz and Anna were both giving him kisses, and there was a young woman whom he didn't even know, and she apparently thought he deserved a kiss, too.

Therese thought it a good idea, also, but that was too much, and he was suddenly radiating that aura of sexual attraction that had women desiring him, quite forgetting that he was helpless in a wheel chair. He caught himself, looking down and shaking his head. He was a hopeless cripple who was planning to kill himself that night!

Twenty more patients, and as he proceeded, he realised they were all from overseas. They were certainly making the most of him, while he was alive.

He was weary and it was dark when Jebedee returned him home. They had his chair, and they had put lights around. And he was welcomed, Will hurrying to him with tears in his eyes. Will had been frightened that he'd gone forever.

Inez came to him again that night, and he welcomed her. He may have told her to stay away, but he thought that maybe he'd changed his mind. And when she slipped away after an hour, he was in such a deep sleep that he didn't stir until morning, forgetting entirely that he'd meant to end his life that night.

***chapter end***


	20. Chapter 20

_Notes:__ Harry's staff include____Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, Jimmy, horse manager, John, who has nursing experience, Kevin, gardener, Chris and Peter Barnes, Chrissy, Inez, Milly, the cook, Clarke, security guard, Will, personal helper. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 20:_

Chris and Chrissy had a conference, organised some money from Margaret, and went shopping together for Harry. He needed a new supply of clothes. It was a mild April day, and the pair enjoyed themselves together. The day out shopping extended to an evening, and even when they returned home, they both went to Chrissy's place for a while. Chrissy ended her long abstinence.

A week later, Beth went back to school, a brief letter of explanation went with her. But no-one was very interested in Beth, and no serious queries were made as to why she had been absent from school for so long.

The snow was long gone, and sunshine warmed the grass. At the beginning of May, Harry went to see the new colt foal that Kinship had dropped. It was black, like his sire. But it was of the blood of Sheba, whom he had loved.

He was still alive, there had so far been no more fits, and he was beginning to regain some coordination in upper body, although he was still a very long way from walking. He was swimming again, but awkwardly, not smoothly. He still preferred to have his meals in private, but was getting better. And he hadn't vanished any clothes for a long time - just his last pair of shoes, to the exasperation of Chris, who'd now bought him several pairs of slip-ons.

He had resumed weekly sessions of spell-breaking at Hermione's, still transported by Jebedee, but he'd put a limit on the numbers. The marathon effort he'd endured at the Ministry was just a touch excessive, he thought. And he was thinking that there would have to be some better arrangement with regard to apparation. He couldn't just go on relying on Jebedee. Maybe he could apparate himself complete with wheelchair. He'd try it soon...

**x**

Midway through May, Harry received a note from Stan McMillan requesting his attendance at the Ministry. He said that Jebedee would collect him when required. Harry, however, had been practising, and didn't wait for Jebedee. Complete with wheelchair, he apparated himself into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Clarke was with him, just in case he needed help. He was the youngest of Harry's wizard employees, and there were hardly any other wizard employees who could lift him if required. Clarke wasn't the nursing type, but Harry didn't expect to need any help this time.

Clarke had never been to the Ministry building, and had had to look up the coordinates. Harry had been there so many times that he never needed to think of coordinates.

Harry's arrival caused a stir as always, and he was delayed in the atrium as word spread, and people came to greet him, a dozen aurors arriving in a bunch, their loudness and their bigness causing the clerk at reception to frown in annoyance.

Madam Rutherford deigned to meet him there, also, holding out her hand to be shaken, as if bestowing a favour.

Harry gave a rather mischievous grin, as he took it. He was remembering a dragon, but Madam Rutherford had chosen to treat the incident as a symptom of illness, and had forgiven him. Harry Potter was irreplaceable, and her grandson was now a lot happier thanks to him. Politely, Harry introduced Clarke Wilson to her. Clarke was very impressed, and would boast of meeting the Minister for Magic for days.

Madam Rutherford turned to an anxious looking young man beside her. "Set up a conference immediately. I want a morning tea, and I want Mr. McMillan, both healers, Trevor Jackson, and Miss Sarah Creevey. There will also be Mr. Potter and Mr. Wilson.

The names appeared in Jason's notebook, and he walked fussily off.

"You will come to my office," Beatrice Rutherford stated. "Mr. Wilson will wait here until called."

Clarke looked questioningly at Harry, who nodded and turned his chair to follow her.

Madam Rutherford was addressing him condescendingly as Harry, but Harry suspected that she would be irritated if he called her 'Beatrice.' He nearly did it anyway. It was only the awareness that Ministers of Magic made very powerful enemies that stopped him.

Adam came hurrying toward him then, but stopped when he saw who he was with. Harry was not overly awed by Beatrice, though, and only said, "One second," spinning his chair back to greet Adam.

Adam had a smile all over his face. His step-father no longer looked as thin, and even though still in a wheel chair, Adam hoped not to be taking guardianship of Beth for a few years yet.

Harry greeted him, and said, "I'll be in a conference for a while, but I'll drop in later, if you like."

Adam looked dubiously at Madam Rutherford, Harry looked back and up at her too, adding, "That all right, Beatrice?" And this time the Christian name was perfectly natural. Harry forgot that he had intended to use it to irritate her, but treated her as an equal, the same as he treated everyone from Kingsley Shacklebolt to feeble-minded Will. And Madam Rutherford remembered his greatness, remembered the recent book of new and original theories he'd had published, and smiled her consent. The Department of Mysteries was to be open to Harry Potter.

In the plush office of the Ministry of Magic, Madam Rutherford made a little small talk to Harry, and mentioned that her grandson was fine now, thanks to Harry.

"Your grandson?"

"You cured him six weeks ago - in spite of your foul temper and completely unnecessary lightning."

Harry reddened, "Well, I didn't like being made an exhibition of."

But Madam Rutherford, on reflection, had been amused. There had been some wealthy and powerful witches and wizards exert pressure on her to be allowed to watch what was expected to be a last exhibition of the magic of the great wizard, and four of them had fled, one even before the lightning had suddenly, frighteningly, flickered around them. She allowed a glimmer of amusement to lighten her usually stern expression. Harry was relieved. He could work with Beatrice, she wasn't going to be a threat to him.

She asked when he could be expected to resume the overseas trips.

"Straightaway," he said, "Provided some special requirements can be met."

Harry, like the Ministry, assumed he would not be around for very long. And he added, "I can also work every week, with a normal workload, rather than every alternate week, and if I'm still around, I want July and August off."

"What special requirements?" asked Madam Rutherford, businesslike, and passing over the reference to an uncertain future.

Harry said that he wanted to be flown back any time on request if he was having health problems, and that he needed a personal helper to be provided. Without comment, Beatrice nodded. "You can discuss your specific requirements as to a personal helper with Therese. You will, of course, have a mediwizard as part of the team." Harry agreed. If Therese had been on the team in Turkey, he might still have been able to walk.

The anxious assistant knocked, and told them that the conference was set up in Conference Room 2. With dignity, Madam Rutherford rose, and indicated that Harry should follow her.

When they arrived, they found that all the other participants were already present, including Clarke, looking thoroughly over-awed. Harry knew them all, and greeted them. Sarah had already taken Clarke in charge, and he was now sitting next to her. A generous area had been left cleared of chairs for Harry with his wheel chair, and a very tempting morning tea was already available.

Harry looked at his coffee mug, suddenly remembering another conference in this room, when they had drugged his coffee, and then wanted to arrest him. Kingsley had got him out of that one. Therese and Jodie kept looking at him, and he didn't know whether to display his clumsiness by drinking his coffee or not. In the end, he vanished it, looking challengingly at Therese in case she thought of making any comment.

Therese made no comment, but his refusal to drink coffee in public, or even eat, gave her a fairly good idea of the degree of impairment he still suffered.

Amicably, it was agreed that the team would consist of four aurors, Therese, and Harry's helper, which Madam Rutherford mentioned casually in an aside, without making an issue of it. They would start as soon as a helper was arranged, Sarah agreeing without hesitation that there was a demand for Harry's services. There was no need to make it clear to the host countries any more that Harry's health was uncertain. They all knew.

Harry saw Therese in private then, who asked a series of embarrassing questions about his capabilities, and promised a selection of potential helpers for him to choose from. Harry told her about Will, who was so easy to have around, and did everything he wanted without question. How he had been 'Lumpy Willy,' and now Harry thought he couldn't live without him. He was a muggle, though, and would not be comfortable in the environment in which they would be working.

Therese asked him about Clarke, but Harry only said that Clarke was needed at home, he had his own work. The truth was that Clarke was quite uncomfortable with illness and disability, and Harry would not ask him to do what he shrank from.

Therese pointed out that she would be responsible for Harry's health, and needed to know a lot more. Harry nodded, he was resigned to that. She wasn't going to know everything though.

That LV was now at 280, an obvious indicator that he was no longer a normal man. He would specify to Hermione what she was allowed to pass on, and what he did not want the Ministry to know. He put off any medical examination for that day, and went off to see Adam in the Department of Mysteries.

He spent a lot of time in the Department of Mysteries, while Clarke waited patiently for him in the atrium, at least until Therese found him, and questioned him closely about Harry, and especially about his recent illness. But like all Harry's employees, Clarke was loyal to Harry, and kept his mouth tight-closed, to the annoyance of Therese. He rather fancied her, though, and asked her out. Therese, to her own surprise, agreed.

Two days later, Clarke and Harry reappeared at the Ministry of Magic, and went to the office of Therese, where she waited for Harry to interview a half dozen potential helpers. They were all large, strong, and male, as Harry had specified. But now he was embarrassed. He didn't know how to do this, and in the end, he suggested Therese do it for him, and that he would watch. Clarke was with him, not wanting another long session left by himself while he waited for Harry.

From the start, Harry had a bad feeling about the interviewees, and, for a change, he opened his mind to them, feeling for their motives. And one after another, he rejected them. They may not even have realised it themselves, but they were all wanting to have some power over 'the great wizard.' In two of them, Harry felt a cruelty.

Therese couldn't understand his rejection of them. They were all well qualified for the job.

Harry thought he'd do better hiring someone off the street, and when Therese continued to argue, he suddenly lost his temper, and swore. She stopped dead, shocked. Harry apologised, saying that he had a bad temper these days. But he explained, "You don't realise - the man we get has to help me wash, for instance, help me to the toilet, and into and out of bed. I'm not having someone ..." He trailed off. It was hard to explain. But there was one thing that was definite. "Two of them had a definite streak of cruelty!" Therese wondered how he knew, but decided not to ask.

"Look, leave it to me." Harry said. "The people I hire always turn out well."

Clarke, in the corner, grinned to himself. Mostly what Harry did was to pick up strays, and pass them on to Bill to find a job for!

Harry said, "I'll see you Monday, and I'll have someone with me, and if I can't find anyone we'll just have to postpone." They were supposed to be going to Sweden Monday, where they were wanted as quickly as possible.

"Wait, Harry. I've got to have a look at you first. I'll be responsible for you from Monday." He turned, hesitating. He so hated to be examined, but Therese was right. It would hardly be fair to accept her as a healer, and refuse to be examined. So he asked Clarke to wait for him in the atrium, and Clarke shrugged resignedly, and left.

Then Therese went about her business, Harry making sure that she still used the same Nisco monitor, that gave a top reading of 105. He knew that she had already spoken to Hermione, and that he was to be shipped off home if there were any reasons for worry. Like Harry, Hermione thought that he would not survive another series of fits.

She wanted him to take his shirt off, but had to undo the buttons for him. He had already told her he was able to stand if he had some support, and when she asked that he do so, he conjured a very steady handhold on the wall, and pulled himself to his feet, both hands holding the support. Therese made a show of putting a monitor to his back and chest, although it had really been just an excuse to see how well he could stand.

Within five minutes, he was having to hold on tighter and tighter, as his legs threatened to give way, and he finally said, "That's enough! Bring back the chair." She had pushed away the chair, but now quickly brought it back.

"Satisfied?" he asked her resentfully as he carefully sat again.

Therese refused to acknowledge that he had seen through her motives, and only checked his weight, saying that he was still too thin.

She helped him back on with the rather nice shirt he was wearing. It had been Chrissy's choice, who had very much enjoyed spending three times as much as she thought reasonable on each of the shirts that she and Chris had bought for him. And she'd given him a very stern lecture. He was not allowed to vanish any more clothes!

Therese had heard about the book/monitor, and even the wrist-band, which she noticed he was wearing even now, and asked, "What's the sensor?" He said casually, "A Nisco, pretty much, with an addition of a reading that show's whether a fit's imminent. I'll bring you a monitor that goes with it Monday, and then you won't have to pester me for readings all the time."

"Really?" she was astounded.

He was embarrassed again. "I know I'm a trial, and I know you've always tried to look after me," and he grinned wryly, "I even know that if I hadn't refused a Ministry healer, I'd probably be still able to walk."

Therese didn't quite know what to say, and suddenly leaned down and kissed him on the mouth. He was disconcerted. She shouldn't do that! Did she think that just because he was in a wheelchair, he wasn't still male?

The next visit was to the Department of Mysteries where research was carried out, and where Adam worked. But there was to be little time to talk to Adam, as other learned witches and wizards came crowding around, two of them holding copies of his latest book, which they'd been talking about since it had been published three weeks before.

Apparating while sitting in a wheelchair was routine already, and Harry was abstracted as they returned. How on earth was he to find a helper that suited him before Monday?

Clarke still walked with him as he made the wheelchair skate gently above the rough ground to the house. "I could do it," he said.

Harry looked at him blankly. "Do what?"

"Be your helper, if you wanted."

"But you hate that sort of stuff!"

Clarke was looking away. "I reckon it's different if it's you, and I wouldn't mind seeing a bit more of Therese. I like her."

Harry grinned. "She's a lovely girl - but she'd run your life!"

Clarke said, "That's not so bad! That's how you were with Luna, wasn't it?"

Harry said quietly, "They used to laugh at me - all my friends. Luna told me what to do, and so did Ginny. And they both made me very happy."

Clarke brought him back to the subject. "Well, can I?"

"You remember what I said to Therese - what you'd need to do?"

Clarke said sturdily, "I remember. I can do that."

"At least I can clean myself with magic, it would be a lot worse for a muggle." And then he smiled at Clarke, "I'd be very grateful. I need someone, and I can't take Will."

Clarke was tempted to say that he could certainly do anything better than Lumpy Willy, but Harry had been very annoyed when he heard Kevin refer to Will as Lumpy, and kept quiet.

Monday, the team assembled in the usual room, as arranged. Trevor had assigned Jebedee to be in charge, with Anthony, Craig and Zack. Harry greeted them with pleasure. He liked being surrounded by his friends, and introduced Clarke to them.

They had their own private small plane, now, and it had been modified with a special place for Harry's chair. Harry didn't enjoy being treated as a cripple, but realistically, that's what he was. He put up with it, and was only grateful that things were made easy for him.

Therese came to sit next to him on the aeroplane, and Harry handed her a book. It was quite small, but was in a dull tan leather, with gold lettering that said Therese. This was his fourth attempt at a colour design, his first three were firmly vetoed by Inez, whose advice he had sought. Opened, it showed an LV reading, (maximum reading 105, although it appeared as if it went to 115 as usual) and energy percentage reading, and the reading that indicated whether a fit was imminent. It had no explanatory text, but Therese needed none. He explained that when she saw the reading spiking up and down, especially the energy reading, he was to be alerted, if he hadn't already noticed.

He mentioned that he had his own monitor, that he kept usually in his room. The book/monitor he gave Therese was also a book, his own recent book, and he showed her how she could discreetly touch a particular spot on the book, and it would convert so that, even open, it only looked like a book. Harry didn't like people knowing how closely he was watched.

Clarke was leaning back in his comfortable seat. He could really get used to this luxury, and when he saw the respect with which they were received by the Swedes, and the quality of their hotel, he was even more pleased. In his pocket was a device that Harry would make buzz when he was needed. John had given him a quick course in looking after a man who could no longer walk, and had then reminisced for three hours about all of Harry's illnesses since he'd been sixteen.

Clarke was still paid by Harry, but Margaret, of her own volition, had made a special trip to the Ministry, arguing that the equivalent of his wage was to be made over to Harry, in addition to Harry's wage. This was ordered.

After lunch, Harry started work. It was a perfectly routine day, with a normal half-day's workload, and they finished early. Harry's wheelchair had been remodelled slightly, so that it appeared to be an ordinary muggle wheelchair, complete with control buttons on the arm, so that it would not appear strange that it did not need pushing.

And then they explored a little. He and Anthony, and Zack and Clarke. It was a safe Swedish resort town, and no-one had tried to kill Harry for a long time, unless they counted the Turks, and then it looked like they were all targets. The aurors stayed alert out of habit, but Harry was only bent on enjoying himself. He even did some shopping, buying some very touristy shirts that Chrissy, who had taken charge of his clothing, would soon find an excuse to throw away. He wanted to find something special for Inez, too, who had been so good to him. She would leave him soon, he knew. She wanted to go into business, and he planned to give her the last few thousands that she needed.

But now it was nearly half past four and he had an appointment. These trips would not have been possible if he could not have done this. He had made detailed arrangements by phone, and had already made sure with a few test runs, that there would not be problems. The first time, Marie had called in Berthe, who was older, and tolerant, and came in especially. Afterward, there was a discussion, and Antoinette decided that she, too, would be happy to cater to Harry's needs, as he now was. It only needed a little adjustment as to positions.

Clarice had left, but Harry was soon to find new favourites. They still liked him, and his body was still young and vigorous. He was able to move himself quite well from chair to bed these days, and there was a bouncer who could help if he fell.

The aurors were surprised when he'd said that he was going out, though they shouldn't have been. He had very frequently gone out at this time for years. And would often find a girl for the night besides.

Afterward, he went swimming. He was a lot better now, and didn't think he required supervision, except maybe for Clarke. But Jebedee and Anthony were also there. The heated swimming pool and the gymnasium were actually in the hotel, and they had even arranged for access in the night if required. Hermione had told Therese, and Therese had gone to Sarah. Harry was to have everything that he wanted.

Clarke was having no trouble with his new duties. Harry was slowly getting better, but he was also finding ways to work around his disabilities. And every day, he would exercise, especially working at controlling his legs. He still so much missed being able to walk. It was not so much just a method of locomotion, but even before his problems since Heather, he had sometimes felt a need for long, hard walks. Hermione had suggested particular exercises to improve the muscle control in his hands, too.

The aurors were having an easier time with Harry than they had done since he was married to Luna. He could not so easily slip his bodyguards, and was hardly likely to go walking in the night or look for fights. They still hated seeing him like this, especially when he had a tray in his room, rather than eating with the rest of them. But this was another thing he was working on.

Tuesday morning, he sat in his chair, waiting for his first patient, wand held with a hand that rested on his knee. A school boy of about fourteen was led in. He was looking thin and tired, and had long hair that grew as Harry watched. It was pulled around to the front in a pony tail. The boy automatically reached for scissors and cut off some of the rapidly growing hair, putting it in a bag that he held by his side. It was not a spell that Harry had seen before. Instead of straightaway trying to break the spell with a wave of his wand, Harry felt for it, extending his senses with an awareness beyond the normal.

"Helmer Roos?" he asked.

The boy looked up, and nodded. It didn't look as if he was hoping for much. Harry started the tingling in the air, and had to intensify it a bit before the spell broke. The hair stopped growing. The boy looked at the pony tail that no longer discernibly grew, drew a big breath of relief, and a wide smile spread across his face. "Thank you," he said.

Harry nodded to him, "No problem."

The boy was led away, but was followed by another, same problem. Again, a quick solution. Next there were two in succession, sabre tusks. After the second, Harry went into the waiting room, where he was surrounded by school boys, most of about fourteen, a few a bit older. Two girls, too. A professor and a nurse sat with them. The professor looked at the man in the wheelchair with some disdain, in spite of the large auror who had followed him out, and now stood next to his chair. Harry was polite, as he introduced himself, and the teacher gave a start, as his eyes went to the forehead of the man in front of him for that old identifying scar. And now the teacher was very polite.

Harry wanted to know if the culprit for all these problems was the same - Helmer Roos?

The professor nodded. "He is very talented."

Harry had a different point of view. "Well, has he been expelled, or punished or anything?"

But the answer was that it was duelling, and duelling was an honourable tradition.

Harry frowned at the teacher. "Are all his spells like this, hard to break?"

A much happier boy whom he'd already seen, said that all his spells were like this - whatever Helmer cursed, stayed cursed.

"Maybe he should be encouraged to stop cursing people then," Harry suggested, still frowning.

"They tease him," said a girl. "Because he's muggle-born."

"Why did he curse you then?" asked Harry.

"That was an accident. He was trying to get Roald."

"But surely he could have undone the spell!" But the girl answered that he had tried, but was unable to.

"So he's powerful enough that no-one else can undo his spells, but not powerful enough that he can undo them himself!" Harry said. "Professor Wennermark, would it be possible to bring this boy to me? I will teach him to undo his own spells, so that he makes less work for me. I might also give him a lecture about duelling. If a wizard is too powerful, he cannot indulge himself that way!"

Professor Wennermark answered that he would talk to the headmaster, but that they didn't relish interference at Durmstrang. Harry's look turned frosty, but he wheeled and went back into the room, where a tusked boy still waited.

Harry worked hard that morning, looking forward to the break at morning tea. All of the school students required work, and he asked Clarke afterward to get him a milkshake with a straw, although food was provided. He'd decided he was being a bit silly being frightened to eat and drink in public, but a straw was still easier to manage than a mug that needed more precision in its handling.

The others looked away when they say his clumsiness, and Harry had to vanish a fair bit of mess afterward.

Therese was keeping an eye on the innocent looking book that was a monitor. A few Swedish observers that Harry was ignoring, wondered why a healer was needed, when all she did was to read a book. She sealed it as Harry had shown her when she came out to join them for morning tea. The work was a lot slower than usual, and Harry had noticed that some of the students had a certain skin condition that often led to problems. He would earn his money today.

They were behind by lunch, but Therese used her authority to say that they would stop, regardless, and continue after they had had a meal and a break. Obviously, spell-bound patients could not be seen openly in muggle areas, and it was a hidden wizard area that they worked in, but all the same, the expensive muggle hotel wasn't far away, and a lunch had been arranged there.

Harry and Clarke ate in his room. It was a sloppy meal, and Harry flushed as Zack came through the open door to tell them that it was time to go back. He'd been caught in the middle of washing his face, and his shirt would have to be changed, or at least cleaned with a spell. Zack tactfully looked away.

Clarke said firmly, "Mr. Potter will be available in a few minutes," and followed Zack to the door, and closed it. He already understood Harry's shame at being so handicapped, and wondered why he didn't rather take pride in being able to do so much that others could not.

Ten minutes later, Harry presented himself ready to return to work. Zack noticed that he now wore a different shirt.

Still three students to go, all with the skin condition. The cured students were now happily exploring the shops. None of them would ever sneer at Helmer's common roots again. Muggle-born or not, he was the most powerful wizard in generations of Durmstrang students. And now Harry really earned his money. The observers were warned, the patients were warned, and three times, strong magic filled the air, while Harry also retained an awareness of his patient, enough to instil extra calm if needed. He could not be interrupted when he did this.

Afterward, Therese called a halt for the day. Harry hardly had enough energy left to make his chair go, and they took him back to the hotel, where Clarke slipped off his shoes, and found him so helpless with shivering that he brought Zack in to help lift him onto his bed.

Therese watched. She had not thought that he was so tired. The energy levels on the monitor were not actually looking all that bad. She wished she'd stopped it after the second one.

Harry raised a shaking hand, but she had to hold the monitor for him. He didn't know himself why he felt so wrecked, and yet the readings were only low, not rockbottom, as he'd done to himself several times. He turned his head, and compared the readings on his own monitor with hers. But they were the same. He was too tired to think about it now, and sent the monitor back to the table where it had lain, and closed his eyes.

Therese looked curiously at the red book, but could only see bits of bible. She had a strong suspicion Harry had secrets from her.

He was sufficiently better by the following day to visit Antoinette in the afternoon, but only had a swim for an hour because he thought it was prudent.

The rest of the week went smoothly, although Harry spoke to the Swedish Coordinator about the boy Helmer Roos. He couldn't understand how he was allowed to curse so many people with apparent impunity. The Coordinator just said that he was a student at Durmstrang, and that they would not interfere.

Therese loved the system of Harry wearing the monitor all the time. She could spy on him at almost any time, as it had a range of some miles. But Harry no longer walked miles, and no longer could play in the surf, and thought that he could no longer pick up girls. His life was far more limited these days. He was still free of nightmares, though.

In Finland, the following week, there was another patient who had been cursed by Helmer Roos, a young man this time, and in Norway, there was yet another. Harry Potter was getting thoroughly annoyed with Helmer Roos!

He did four weeks of work, without any major problems. Every Friday afternoon, Will watched for him, waiting anxiously. He was always pitifully happy to be able to look after him again, seeming more happy the more he had to do for his idol. But Harry was consistently improving now. He could feed himself a lot better, was much better in the arms so that he could again swim smoothly, and as long as he could hold onto something, he could stand reasonably safely for a lot longer. He tried not to be too optimistic. If the nervous attacks started again, or even if he just fitted for any reason, it would be pretty much over. He thought that he could not live through another struggle like the last one.

Clarke continued to see Therese regularly, and by the third week, they were regularly sharing a bed.

**x**

The school holiday break came, and Harry and Clarke waited at King's Cross to greet Beth. Beth sent her trunk home, as Harry taught her then and there, several other students watching as he explained the spell. Two others tried it with their own trunks, but their parents were not very happy when their trunks appeared to vanish entirely. They turned up on Harry's property, but were not noticed for a couple of days.

The following day, Clarke asked for leave, but promised to be back once the break was over.

July 31st, Harry's birthday. He stood carefully from his chair, and, depending heavily on a three-pronged walking stick to keep his balance, walked to where Beth waited at the fence, watching a glossy chestnut mare grazing, while a small black colt bucked and played in the sunshine. They smiled broadly at each other. There was no need for words.

Two days before Beth went back to school, Clarke returned and announced that he was just back from his honeymoon. Clarke had lived many years on one of the worker's cottages on Harry's place. It was a pleasant little house, but now he was to move to Therese's place, in London. Therese arranged for him now to be employed by the Ministry, although his job was still primarily to look after Harry. Harry went to visit them, the day after, taking Kevin with him to carry their wedding present. Their shining contentment made him feel his own loneliness. But who would have him now?

Beth returned to school, and Harry returned to work. There were a couple of changes. Clarke and Therese now shared a bedroom, and Harry now had meals with the others, even though he was still a bit messy sometimes. He still depended on his chair, but could now leave it and walk for short distances. The others became accustomed to seeing him instantly conjure a walking stick when he needed it, and generally vanish it afterward. It was too awkward to carry with him in the chair.

He still had fits of trembling, apparently unrelated to anything much at all. If people noticed, or commented, he would tell them it meant nothing, and, in a compelling voice, as effective as anything that Kingsley could muster, that they were to take no notice. If he was walking, though, he would often have to pause and wait until it passed.

He was doing two weeks out of three now, so that he could keep up with Hermione's list. He always felt he owed a greater loyalty to the wizards and witches of his own country than to those of others. Besides, he would come back quite tired, often, after a week's work, and was better for the break.

In October, triumphantly, Harry left his chair behind, appearing in the atrium of the Ministry for Magic, standing firmly braced, and relying just on a cane. Clarke still helped him when required, he still had a lot of trouble with buttons, and occasionally became very tired, and then a lot of the regained muscle control would be lost and he would need extra help again. Most of the time, though, Clarke was no longer needed in his old job, and was already taking over a lot of the role of organiser and on-the-spot Coordinator, relieving the auror in charge of some of his extra duties.

Harry was still free of nightmares, and could scarcely believe his good fortune.

That week, he walked to the bar of the hotel, alone, sat at a table, watched for a while, and finally smiled at an Australian tourist. For the rest of the week, an auror watched a different door.

Therese still kept a close watch on Harry, as his watch-band/sensor was never taken off, but it was such an unobtrusive watch, that he generally forgot how easily he could be checked. One evening, after Harry had retired with Monica, she casually checked the monitor, and then looked more closely, and kept watching now and then, for the next half hour, at first concerned, and then smiling. She had not seen that pattern of changes in energy levels before, but she soon realised what it was all about. Harry would never have left that watch-band on if he'd known that there were now times when Therese looked at the monitor, and knew exactly what he was doing!

Harry had had no problems now for many months. He liked to pretend to himself that his problems were over, and that his remaining handicaps would disappear.

***chapter end***


	21. Chapter 21

_Notes:__Harry's children__: Adam Bourne, stepson, Margaret, Victoria and James, children of Ginny, and Beth, daughter of Luna. Harry's staff include____Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, Jimmy, horse manager, John, who has nursing experience, Kevin, gardener, Chris and Peter Barnes, Chrissy, Inez, Milly, the cook, Clarke, security guard, Will, personal helper. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 21:_

Beth was fifteen. She had a fire in her blood, and knew what it was all about. She wanted sex. But she was large and plain, and was avoided by her fellow students. They didn't know why, but many of them frankly hated her, even though she had never hurt anyone. Many unpopular people are pitifully eager to please, wanting to run errands, help with homework, or whatever required, in order to win a degree of acceptance.

Beth was in a different category. She was never offered the opportunity to abase herself, and would probably have been too proud to do so in any case. She had inherited a lot from her father, even if she did look quite dissimilar.

She wound up doing what he had done many years before - slipping out of bounds, and looking for muggles to give her what her body craved. Even large and ordinary looking, a young girl is attractive to many men. But after the first few times, she gave it up. Her pleasure would be great at the time - she was a very sexual young woman, but she knew too much of what the men thought of her. The last one, a goodlooking man in his twenties, had looked at her afterward, and was thinking that he'd done her a favour. In a rare fit of irritation, she bestowed on him three years of severe acne. Afterwards, she stifled the needs of her body - it was better to go without than to be treated with contempt.

Christmas came, and Harry had the pleasure of having his daughter with him for the short break. They talked endlessly, Harry taught her a few more spells - she could conjure very well now, and they rode their horses together.

This was a pleasure that Harry had needed to work on. His balance was still bad, but as long as he avoided trotting, and the horse went smoothly, he could now go fast, galloping, although firmly holding onto the horse's mane. He used Jumbuck, a stocky, spotted horse, who was not too tall, so was easier to mount, and closer to the ground if he fell, and yet could cover the ground smoothly and quickly.

Beth used Fraidy Cat on the estate, and Lockerbie or Corio when they went further afield. Kinship was in foal again, so Harry didn't ride her, although he was very fond of her and talked to her whenever he was home. All his horses were pets, and he wished very much that he was likely to be still alive when Kinship's black colt foal was old enough to ride.

Margaret Brown was pleased with him these days. His book had become very popular, was translated into dozens of languages, and he had made a lot of money from it. Enough money, for a change, to add to his wealth, rather than just to pay his bills. She didn't draw it to his attention though, she didn't trust him not to give it away. She thought that Harry was too often a target, and needed the protection of his wealth. There was Beth, too. Almost alone among the employees on the estate, Margaret was aware that Beth had some very special qualities, and could have dangerous enemies, too.

That book he had written was now in nearly every wizard home in Britain, often casually left out on a coffee table to impress. But as not one in a hundred had much conception of what it was about, there was a good market for a slim book produced by another author, which sought to convey enough that it was easier for people to pretend to an understanding.

February, and the team was in Greece. They were on the beach, but the beach was no longer the pleasure it had been for Harry. He could swim again, smoothly and well, but crossing the sand to get to the beach was a humiliation. He would flounder in the soft sand, quite unable to negotiate it by himself. A stony beach was almost as bad. On the other hand, he was now able to go for quite long walks, as long as it was on level ground. He still needed his stick for balance, but was beginning to rely on it less. He had fits of shaking, but took no notice of them himself, and the others took their cue from him.

Trevor gave him usually one senior auror these days, he still mostly had Anthony, and then there would be a couple of young ones, although never women. He played again now, even if a lot more limited than a few years before. He enjoyed having the young men with him, who would indulge in horseplay when they swam, and would beg him to teach spells they wanted to learn, like the skill of returning luggage home. This was not very successful, as both Peter's luggage, and David's luggage were lost. Several more aurors learned silent apparation. Harry had apparently forgotten his old suspicion of them as potential enemies.

Always he kept with him a contact phone number in case of illness - the muggle phone number of the Ministry of Magic. He had a fear that if he became ill while away from the team, he could end up brain damaged in a muggle institution until he died.

In Brazil, Anthony spoke of a place they could go riding, and they had a wonderful time for a while. Anthony and young Jack were with him, begging him to go slower. But he only laughed at them, looking over his shoulder, and leaned further forward, as his nimble mount galloped a well worn stony path along a steep mountainside, until Anthony fell off.

Harry was repentant then, especially as Anthony had to have a broken arm mended by Therese. Both Jack and Anthony were very stiff and sore for a few days, and Anthony's arm stayed sore, too, so that he had to ask somebody to do up his shirt buttons, to the amusement of Harry. This was something that Clarke hardly ever had to do for him, now, only once or twice when he made himself particularly tired.

In Paris, and Therese found where he vanished to, so often around 4.30pm in the afternoon. The girl he visited, or the brothel he patronised, whichever it was, could not be far away, as he was still within range of the monitor.

He still wore his sensor device, but mostly pretended to himself that he was perfectly well and would undoubtedly stay that way. He never looked at his own monitor, which was left at the bottom of his luggage.

In April, Harry was disconcerted to discover that he could no longer apparate to coordinates. It was so long since this basic skill was needed, and he never had the slightest trouble apparating to a known place. But he tried and tried again to apparate to a party, before giving up and going home. Consulting the map again, he realised that he had kept apparating to the left of the desired place, but to a different spot each time. It was another symptom of lack of balance, or a bias to the left, he concluded, and might not be very easy to overcome.

It was May, and the team were in Austria. It had been a tiring day for Harry, and he'd gone to bed early. Young Jack guarded his room, sitting outside his door, feet on a conjured footstool. He had a book, but his eyes were half closed. He jumped to attention though, when he heard a panicked yell from the room. Jack hesitated for a moment, but when there was a crash, he opened the door and entered.

Harry was pale and trembling, on the floor, but struggling to get up, and was swearing non-stop, furiously.

Jack looked for the enemy, but Harry said shakily that he was sorry, it was just a nightmare, no need for alarm. Jack helped him up, and handed him a cane that was left by the bed. Harry stood, still shaking, still pale and sweating. He hadn't had a nightmare in so long. It didn't mean anything, though, he was sure. He just needed to walk a little, or maybe a swim. He cast a glance at where the monitor was still packed away, and his glance was one of fear.

Ignoring Jack, he started to dress, having trouble with the buttons with his shaking hands, until he sealed the shirt shut, crookedly, with a touch of magic. Jack was worried, "What are you doing?"

Harry answered briefly, "Going for a walk."

Jack still hesitated, but suddenly left, knocking on Jebedee's door, "Harry's going walking, I think you should call Therese," and was back just in time to follow Harry as he walked as fast as he could down the corridor.

Harry's legs were screaming to walk, and he walked, using his cane to keep his balance, trying to go faster, as he needed.

Therese was woken, and immediately checked her monitor. There was the spiking that she hadn't seen before, but that both Hermione and Harry had described to her. For the first time, too, she saw that there was a potential for a fit, but it was not yet close.

He could not walk fast enough, and turned to the nearby sea. He would swim. He could swim better than he could walk. Jack was still the only auror with him, although he called for help when Harry started along a pier that led out into the sea. Harry started stripping off clothes, vanishing the shirt that refused to unbutton.

Jack tried a physical intervention, taking his arm and saying, _"No,_ Harry. Come back to the hotel. Therese will fix you."

Harry just told him not to be so silly, and when he persevered, turned on him furiously, telling him to back off. Jack backed off, and Harry slipped awkwardly into the water, stroking fast across the gentle swell, straight out to sea, Jack watching from the pier.

Jebedee soon joined him, followed by Anthony with Therese. They were still close to the hotel, and Therese had her monitor, and could tell them that Harry was not too far away, that he was still all right, and that indications were that the threat of a fit was receding. It was more than an hour later that Harry came back, shivering only from the cold now. The spikes had faded from the monitor readings, and there was no longer any indication of a possible fit. They wrapped him in his cape, which someone had brought from his room, and took him back, staggering with weariness.

Clarke helped him into bed, and Therese cancelled the morning's work.

He woke late, and stared at the ceiling. It was starting again. He wasn't going to go through it all again, and was tempted to end it then and there. He could just die, he knew how, or could apparate out to sea, so that there was no body to lie in state while Beatrice Rutherford played politics. But it was only Tuesday, and there was a job unfinished.

It was late, but when he poked a head out of the door, Jebedee was there, and calmly told him that the morning's work was postponed. Harry just nodded, and started closing the door, before remembering and asking not to be disturbed for an hour. And then, even before showering and dressing, he sat in his familiar variety of conjured easy chair, closed his eyes, and used his best weapon against more nervous attacks. Not that he was going to have any nervous attacks, it had obviously been just a nightmare the previous night.

He still had not pulled out his monitor, feeling a quivering fright whenever he even thought about it. In a bedroom down the corridor, Therese watched more low grade spiking on the readings, but they gradually subsided, to her relief.

Harry had a very late breakfast that day, joined tiredly by Therese and by Anthony. Jack, who was the one officially covering nights, was sound asleep in his room. Uncomfortably, Harry apologised for being a nuisance. Anthony just said that he couldn't understand him swimming when it was still so cold.

There was no problem with the afternoon's work, and Harry made a trip to Paris for an hour's recreation, and incidentally, therapy. He had a new favourite. She called herself Lolita, and refused to tell him her real name. She was a buxom, brassy blonde, a surface which well disguised a penetrating intelligence and a wry humour.

Harry enjoyed her company, as well as her enormous appetite for sex. She'd told him once that she had no intention of ever getting married, as no one man could ever keep it up to her. He stayed with her a few hours, having dinner with her. He gave her a special hug as he left, and said that if by any chance he didn't return, she was to know that she made him very happy, always. He'd best live a few days longer, he had some extra bequests to make.

He was greeted with relief when he returned, and Jebedee pleaded with him not to go away without one of them with him. What if he got sick again? Harry shrugged, and said he'd just had a nightmare the previous night and that there was no reason to think he was going to get sick again. But he refused when Therese wanted to do a thorough examination. Therese tried to insist, and told him worriedly that there was spiking on the readings, and he looked away and said vaguely that he'd deal with it. And again, he dealt with it.

He still would not look at his own monitor, and that evening, late, he disapparated from within his room, and walked the streets, until he found what he was looking for. There was only one - as he didn't feel he could take on many when he needed a cane to keep his balance. But when a young man held up a knife and demanded his wallet, he challenged the man to a fight.

Jebedee was alerted to his disappearance. They had never done it before, but now there were devices in one of his shoes, and on his cape so that the aurors could track him down when he left them behind. Jebedee and Jack apparated close, and watched Harry as he ducked and weaved, a fierce grin on his face. He was lightning fast as he feinted, briefly raising his cane from the ground, and then snatching the knife and throwing it away with his right hand, and stepping instantly back, dodging the other's follow up attack. His eyes were bright, and his white teeth gleamed in the tanned face, as he played below a street light.

But his mood changed as the man tried to retreat, and instead of letting him go, he continued to press forward, hitting harder and harder into the body of the man, with his right fist, while he kept his balance with the cane in his left. The man was trying to shield himself, backing away, not quite willing to turn and run. But it was Harry who was crying.

He finally stopped, and the man backed off a bit further, and turned and fled. The man had had a knife, and had taken on a man who wore glasses and who depended on a cane. And he'd been thrashed.

Harry looked up as Jebedee came to him. And he made no protest, as Jebedee gently told him that they were going back to the hotel. He staggered and nearly fell once, as they walked back, and Jebedee on his left, grabbed him, supporting him until he could regain his balance.

Therese gave him a thorough examination when he returned. He didn't protest. She had meant to treat his bruises, but he seemed untouched, just a bit weary.

He finished the week's work without incident, just a few incidences of low-grade spiking, which he was able to eliminate with a bit of meditation or exercise. He'd been put on notice, he felt, not that he was going to go around saying any goodbyes - he'd done that before in his life, and had felt quite foolish when he'd survived anyway.

Will was still in the bedroom within the house that he'd been allotted when he first arrived, and was available to help him whenever needed.

Friday evening, he wrote out a list of extra bequests for Margaret to organise for him when he died. He wondered how he would ever have managed through his illness if those women had not been available to him. Berthe, Antoinette, Lolita and Leonie. Clarice had been given a generous wedding present when she had left her job. There had been Inez, too, now running a successful business in a large town not far away. He was sure that he could not have lived without her. And she, too, had an extra bequest. They all did so much for him, Will, and Margaret, and Jimmy Carr, and Chris and Peter Barnes. Chrissy, too, and they were going to get married soon, Chris and Chrissy, shame about the too similar names, but life's like that.

Afterward, he regarded the list, and took it to Margaret, and dictated it to her. His writing was only legible to himself because he had the prompts of memory to help him. She made not the slightest comment, not even looking disapproving at the list of names of French prostitutes.

He touched her briefly on the shoulder, and said "Thanks," before turning and leaving. Margaret's eyes were shining for a moment, but she put it sternly away from her. Softness was for evenings, not for work hours.

There were already special instructions concerning Will. He was to be looked after for the rest of his life - for the sake of Will's pride, preferably as a worker on the estate. Big, strong, feeble-minded, ugly, scarred. Harry was sure that he could not have survived without Will. When he was most helpless, and felt most shamed, Will's unique qualities had helped him endure.

Will never thought about Harry as others might - such thinking was beyond his capabilities. Harry was simply his idol. The old shame in his being, never understood by himself, although felt, had been replaced by a pride. He was useful and valued, spending most of his time these days, helping about the estate, especially when physical work was required.

Therese had been in contact with Hermione, and when she turned up on Saturday, she gave him yet another thorough examination. And she, too, felt a sense of hopelessness. Harry had battled so hard to come as far as he had, and she had a feeling that it would all be lost at the first, inevitable fit.

There was no indication of anything wrong, though, and he felt rather better when she gave him a stern lecture for fighting. It was comforting to be treated as if he was just a bad boy. She told him she was going to call in again the following day.

They had a stroll around the nearer parts of the estate then, abruptly joined by Jimbo, Chrissy's enormous dog, who bounded around them in his exuberance. A small tabby cat followed them, hissing at the dog when it came too close. They leaned against a fence, admiring the chestnut mare, Kinship, in a grassy field with her nearly grown chestnut filly, and her black colt, a yearling now. A new foal was due.

He asked her then. She was not to let him live as a vegetable. If he couldn't talk, and he couldn't do it himself, she was to put him down. Hermione nodded, and when he looked at her for more. She touched him, and said, "I promise."

He continued then, indignantly, "Bloody Madam Rutherford wants to have an enormous funeral, I heard her thinking about it last May. She was enjoying listing to herself all the foreign dignitaries she was going to invite!"

Hermione laughed at him, "Surely you have more important things to think about than what's going to happen after you're dead!"

He smiled at her, and said provocatively, "Oh, I've already made out a list of bequests... to Berthe, ... to Antoinette, ...to Lolita, ...and to Leonie." And he lingered lovingly on the names until she playfully boxed his ears. He ducked, grinning.

He walked with her to the apparation zone, afterward calling up Lockerbie, currently his best rideable horse, and encouraged the horse to buck and play with him for a while, before racing as hard as possible around the perimeter track. He could ride again, now.

He still thought that life was limited, and called up Kinship's three year old filly. He talked to her a little, and then leapt onto her back for the first time. His agility was returning. He still lacked fine coordination in his fingers, but a lack of balance was the only real problem left with his walking, and he thought that, given the chance, he might have been able to overcome even that, and discard his cane, or, at least, only use it when over-tired, as he had before.

The filly snorted, stamped her foot, and on his gentle request, walked slowly around the paddock with him. She was the great grand-daughter of Sheba, and looked so much like her. He slipped off, and hugged her around the neck. She snuffled at him, and when he conjured a cane so that he could stand safely, and stepped back from her, she bucked herself around the field, before returning to him as he walked back to the gate.

He lunched with his employees, and irritated Bill by keeping Kevin and Jimmy talking long after their lunch hour was over. But Harry was the boss, and he could hardly say anything, though he suddenly noticed he was being regarded with a certain merriment, until he smiled, too. He never could resist his boss, even when he made the most trouble for him.

Harry finally let Kevin and Jimmy go, although Bill noticed not long later that he was sitting in the garden of John's little cottage, yarning with the old man, now largely retired. John's muggle wife watched him timidly, before appearing with some fresh, hot scones. Even later, Bill noticed that Harry was now keeping a couple of other employees from their work, and he felt a quick stab of alarm. Harry had been very sick a year ago, as they all knew. But he had come so far. Surely he was all right now.

Sunday, Harry felt very well and full of energy. Hermione came again, but didn't stay long, and he went visiting.

He spent a long time with Margaret and Sean, and some of their younger children, not yet at Hogwarts. Three Abercrombies were now at Hogwarts, two of them redheads, and all of them in Gryffindor. There was a baby again, and Harry studied the tiny face and caressed the soft cheek. He didn't see enough of the Abercrombies. With their large family, they had to go by muggle transport, which was slow, and took with it the risk of being followed. Although Harry didn't think he was any longer at risk of Death Curses himself, he thought that Beth might need a hidden home.

Sean had a couple of interesting pieces of news for him. The first was that his father, Euan, would become headmaster at Hogwarts, and had mentioned to Sean that he was going to try and get Harry Potter to come back. That Harry Potter would be of immense value to him if he could be brought back to teaching. Harry stared at him, feeling immensely gratified. He had always had so much pleasure from teaching. But, of course, he was forgetting. He would probably not make it until then. Still, you never knew, he'd despaired of himself before...

Sean became very shame-faced then. There was another thing, he started, but stopped as Margaret re-entered the room, with young Ginny following. Ginny was very polite, and offered him the last cake before she took the plate away.

Harry accepted it, to please her. "She looks like my Ginny," he said, smiling after the girl.

Sean rose then, and went outside, and Harry followed. It was only when he was out of earshot of the others that he suddenly said to Harry, "They used Veritaserum, and then modified my memory. I'm so sorry."

Harry looked at him blankly. "What?"

Sean had to explain further. "The whereabouts of your home. They found out through me, but it was Percy Weasley who was responsible. He even got a promotion for it. I took some revenge - I modified _his_ memory, he won't remember where it is, and you told me once that written down coordinates and maps of your home vanish after a while."

Harry nodded. "Don't feel bad. There are so many who know now that it had to happen sooner or later. I'm quite surprised it's lasted so well, but Dumbledore helped me with the spells. I expect that most of those who went there that day have forgotten by now."

Sean asked, "Did you really threaten the Minister for Magic with a dragon?"

Harry nodded, grinning. "She forgave me, though - she was kind enough to regard it as a symptom of my illness."

"Was it?"

Harry laughed, and said possibly partly. He had to demonstrate the dragon for Sean then, and when the children arrived, he had to entertain them with rather tamer looking varieties. Margaret was looking at him sternly, and she suspected that she was thinking of children's nightmares. So his dragons were colourful, cute, and benign looking. They were not in pastel colours. Quiet pastels were not in Harry Potter's colour range.

There was one more thing that Harry had to remind his children, including Margaret. He was set against his funeral being used as a political event, and he reminded Margaret again, but casually, not making anything of it, that it had to be very quiet and quick, and, if possible, at home. He wanted to be buried next to Luna. _"Don't_ give the Ministry a chance to take over," he emphasised.

He went to see Draco Malfoy then. He never knew whether he really liked Draco, or utterly detested him. This time, he was liking him. They were not long there, though, when Draco casually said, "I heard you were probably about to die."

Harry stared at him. "How_ do_ you hear these things?"

Draco shrugged, and said, "I didn't believe it! How often have you been supposed to be dying? Personally, I think you don't know how!"

Harry said, with a gleam of humour, that he knew all right, just hadn't quite got around to it.

They talked a while longer before Harry got up. He wanted to call on Fred and George, who now had grey hair, but were still the same as they always were. They were excellent company, and he gave them the apparation coordinates of his home, and wondered why he hadn't done it long since. They thanked him, and said they'd visit whenever invited. They weren't going to come otherwise. They were frightened of dragons! That dragon was more than a year ago now, but maybe the story was too good to die a quick death.

Harry finally, reluctantly, brought out his monitor. Hermione had her own monitor, as Therese had, but Hermione's gave the same information as his own, not the limited version of Therese's. The LV was now up to 287, he noted, but there were still no indications of further problems. So he shrugged his shoulders, and prepared to go away again on Monday, Sweden again, where that stupid boy lived, Helmer Roos, lived.

***Chapter end***


	22. Chapter 22

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 22:_

Harry looked with surprise at the gathering on Monday - Jebedee, Zack, Eli, Anthony, Bedwin, Anna. "Is everyone coming?" he asked in astonishment.

Trevor was there, too. "Well, there's not much going on at home, and they all volunteered."

Harry looked at Trevor, "There can be hardly any senior aurors left behind."

Trevor was casual, "There's still Tom, and there's a few others..."

Harry scratched his head, "Well, I know I was a bit of a trouble last week - but I didn't think I was that bad..."

Unusually, Trevor patted his shoulder, "Have a good time."

Harry cocked an eyebrow, and said, "Yeah, Helmer Roos, You know you really should try and recruit that boy. If you could just stop him cursing everybody, and get him breaking spells, he could take my place no worries!"

Therese and Clarke were there, as always, and they boarded their aeroplane for Sweden. Harry no longer pretended to himself, and he checked his own monitor when they arrived. And maybe because of the confinement on the aeroplane, there was already some slight spiking on the monitor. There was a little time before lunch, and he took himself to the swimming pool within the hotel. It was the same hotel as they had been in the previous year, except that now he no longer needed a wheelchair, and could eat with the others without making too much of a mess. Really, the only problem left was that he could still not write a legible hand.

Anna and Anthony accompanied him, but Harry wasn't interested in play, he just methodically swam up and down the pool, and Therese and Jebedee in another room, watched as the readings became normal again.

Therese had explained the significance of the readings to Jebedee and Zack. Harry was to be watched twenty-four hours a day, and Therese called at any time, whenever there was anything abnormal. Clarke already knew what it all meant, and Therese had brought extra devices and monitors of all kinds this week, as well as a supply of potions. She was expecting Harry to have problems, and had spent an hour with Hermione the previous day, exploring possible scenarios and treatment options. Hermione had warned her that potions didn't seem to work very well with Harry, just maybe a little, at first.

After lunch, Harry cured several patients, including two seventeen year old duellists from Durmstrang. He took the opportunity to ask the first student how many were affected this time, but apparently there were only two - Helmer now duelled with adult wizards, whenever there was a real or fancied insult. And the boy said, with a touch of possessive pride, that he was the best fighter ever.

Harry said briskly that duelling was a stupid pastime, only suitable for stupid boys.

The boy said, surprised, "But what if you're challenged?"

"Well, personally, I just say I don't duel," said Harry Potter.

The boy was taken aback. Duels were expected, a sign of manhood. But Harry Potter was famous!

Harry was surprised when the day's work appeared to be finished so quickly. But the British Ministry had specified a light workload, even if it went over more days. If there were delays due to illness, that way they could be easily made up.

Anthony had an activity planned - they were to be taken touring for two hours. Harry was enjoying himself, but Therese was noticing that worrying spiking yet again, and had a word with Jebedee. The tour was cut short, to Harry's surprise, and they were taken back to the hotel. He hadn't yet noticed any symptoms himself. But Therese tapped her monitor, and he sighed and went to his room, to think it away, checking his own monitor afterward.

He apparated to the brothel, then. He wanted a spot of sex, and besides, he thought that he really needed the company of a woman. There had been no-one since Anthea, on Saturday. He visited Anthea a lot, but she only wanted him once or twice a week. She had a marvellous sense of humour, though, and a toddler that he liked to play with, and a neighbour who was always happy to look after the toddler for an hour.

Jebedee was despairing when he disapparated, although Harry did say he was going out for a while.

"I'll be back in an hour," he consoled Jebedee, and he pulled a creased note from his pocket, "I've even got a contact number with me, just in case."

Jebedee put his faith in the location devices, and there was now a tiny one attached to Harry's glasses, too. He never left his glasses behind. But it appeared that he went out of range, and only when Therese overheard Jebedee complaining to Zack did she say casually, "Paris, I think."

With that clue, they were able to locate him, and Eli and Anthony saw him as he left what looked like a very nice private hotel, but giving a kiss to a tiny, dark-faced woman as he left. He had not made an appointment that day, and his favourites were unavailable, but Katria had been wonderful.

He glanced around, and the aurors were sure that they were out of sight, but he strolled straight across to them anyway, scarcely using his cane. "You come here, too?" he asked them, a gleam of enjoyment on his face.

Anthony, who wasn't really very old, blushed, but Eli just said, "Are you coming home now?"

Harry was looking very contented, and said, "Sure," glanced around in case of muggles, and vanished in front of their eyes. They did the same, but Eli and Anthony had to do it in steps. It was a bit far for them to apparate in one go, as Harry so casually did.

By the time they arrived, he had his feet up, and was chatting to Anna and Bedwin. Jebedee and Therese were conferring yet again, the monitor, as always in front of them.

The gathering turned into a party after dinner. There were rarely so many of them together, with nothing much to do. Harry had dropped his usual reticence and was telling them a little of his early life. He mentioned that he'd wanted to be an auror himself at one time, but that aurors trying to lock him up now and then had rather put him off the profession.

They were all laughing, relaxed, and Harry was teased about the brothel, but he protested that it was an absolute necessity for his health, besides being a great deal of fun, and he was looking directly at Anna, who blushed, suddenly looking a lot less like an auror, and a lot more like a desirable woman.

Jebedee frowned. He didn't think it appropriate that Anna should sleep with Harry, but that's what she probably would have been instantly prepared to do, if she hadn't remembered where he'd been not so long before. It was somehow rather an inhibiting thought.

Therese was tired of missing the fun, and she entered, too, carrying the book/monitor. They were all there now, but when Therese looked at her monitor, Harry noticed, and stripped off the sensor device.

"You're off duty," he told her, "This is party time."

Therese looked questioningly at Jebedee, who only offered her a drink. So she shrugged, Harry looked happy and relaxed, and there had been no indications of problems as she had watched in her room.

He put it on again later that night, though, as he went to bed, and frowned as he checked his own monitor. How long was he going to be able to keep this under control?

Therese knocked and entered, noticing that he had his monitor open as well. Harry asked her what he had asked Hermione, that if he became too bad while under her care, that she should put him down. He didn't altogether trust the Ministry to hand him over to Hermione - it might be Therese who had the control.

Therese agreed. It was what any good healer would do if there was no chance of recovery and if the patient wanted it.

Again, he sat in his chair, and forced control upon his body, but even when the spiking levelled out, the fit monitor was not indicating as low as it should. It was a great comfort to Harry that he could end his life the moment he chose, and he thought that maybe he'd do that if a fit was imminent.

With that decision made, he put himself to bed and went peacefully to sleep, but suddenly waking up a half hour later, realising that he must speak to Jebedee. He conjured himself a dressing gown, defiantly lurid in colour, and found both Jebedee and Anna just outside.

"I always thought one guard one too many," he said, "But two?"

Jebedee and Anna were staring, appalled, at his dressing gown. There was nothing moving on it, as they were in a muggle hotel, but that was the only restraint that he'd shown.

Harry was distracted. He was wondering if Anna still had a boyfriend as she'd told him a while back. He knew she wasn't married.

"Harry!" said Jebedee, warningly, as he continued to look at her. "What did you want?"

Harry tore his eyes away from Anna, and said, "I just wanted a word with you in private," and then he put all the sexual invitation he had at his command into his expression and into his voice, as he said, "Anna could wait in my room if she wants."

Jebedee raised his eyes to the ceiling, but Anna was looking at him, fascinated. Jebedee gave up and said that Anna was a grown woman and could do what she wanted. Anna turned and went into his room, with Harry obviously about to follow.

Jebedee had to call him back, "You said you wanted a word with me."

Harry still looked at his door, obviously distracted. "Oh, yes, I just wanted to ask you to please take me back home if I die, or just get rid of the body. I don't want Beatrice getting hold of me."

Jebedee was speechless. Harry had just spoken of his death as if it was unimportant compared to his impatience to join Anna.

"How about we talk tomorrow about that?" suggested Jebedee, in a soothing voice, although it didn't really look like soothing was needed.

But now Harry switched his attention back to Jebedee. "Yes, but I could die suddenly, and I really don't want to be used as a political pawn by Beatrice, even dead. If it's too much trouble, you could just vanish the body - _'Evanesca'_ works perfectly well."

Jebedee regarded him. Harry was serious. And at last, he said, "I promise."

Harry smiled, relieved. "Thank you. You're a good friend."

Jebedee glinted at him. "I believe Anna is waiting." Harry smiled and returned to his room, on which there was now a silence shield. Inside Anna was having second thoughts. She was supposed to be his bodyguard, not his lover. But he went to her, and very shortly, if Beth had been close, she would have looked up and smiled, as the joyousness filled the air.

Later that night, as he started to fidget and moan, she stroked his forehead, and prevented the acute disturbance of a nightmare, that so often resulted in the dangerous nervous attacks. He was able to work another day.

Tuesday and Wednesday there were continuing episodes of spiking, each of which he controlled by exercise or by meditation. Anna continued to share his bed, and that helped keep him going also. But the threat of a fit continued on the monitor, moving ever closer, even when he appeared to be controlling the condition. Harry was acutely aware of it, and spent more time trying to explore his own mind for a solution.

Early Thursday morning, he cuddled up closer to Anna, and his hand started admiring the graceful swell of hip, and the soft curves of breasts. He thought this might be the last time, and he put all his skills, and all his efforts into making it the best time. A sign had appeared on the outside of the door, 'Do not disturb,' and the silencing shield was still in place. And even when he was very late to appear, Therese was able to say that Harry was not in acute trouble.

Thursday at breakfast, he was rather abstracted, staring into the distance as he ate. Anna was still in bed. She had watched, expressionless, as he sat in his chair for a while, shutting his eyes, then showered and dressed. He kissed her tenderly, and then she had turned over, and cried for a long time, before slipping into an exhausted sleep. The 'Do not disturb' sign was left in place.

He stood, stretching when he was finished, though grabbing for the top of a chair as he started to stagger.

Jebedee was there. Harry was starting to wonder when he slept, and quite casually he asked Jebedee to cancel next week's work, if he hadn't already, and then turned to Clarke, who always had the list of patients. He seldom bothered looking at the list, just doing what he was presented with. But this time he studied it, and turned the page for Friday's list. He asked Clarke then, to try and organise as many of Friday's to come forward to Thursday as possible, preferably all of them. He made no explanation. Clarke looked at Jebedee, who gave him a grim nod.

Harry was shaking again. But there was a little time left before work, and he swam methodically up and down, until he thought it was the best he could do. But even before he was dressed, the continuous quiver of his body was back, and he fumbled with his buttons before Zack came forward to help. He hadn't noticed before, but there were three aurors with him while he swam, plus another two Swedes. The Swedes were very good at helping where required, and the organisation was always smoothly competent.

He had a look in the waiting room before starting work. He was looking for a particular set of symptoms among his patients that often meant that he would need to call up the strong magic that would help him control the shaking, and the need to move that was taking him again. But there were none like that, and he did the first few as quickly as he could.

Jebedee was with him, as well as Zack. Therese watched the monitor continuously, wondering whether to call a halt. Instead, she reached into her bag and poured out a bottle of potion. He jumped as her chair scraped on the floor - he was getting very nervy.

"Calming Potion," she told him. "It might help."

He doubted it, but he drank anyway, although shaking hands led to spilled potion.

After a half dozen more patients were too easily cured, he went out to the waiting room again, where the few wizards and witches who recognised him were not impressed. Not very big, pale, trembling, and depending heavily on a cane. He did not look like a great wizard.

Two young wizards entered, with a certain skin condition, and he felt for the spell. Cursed by Helmer Roos, and that particular spell that often led to difficulties, just what he needed. "One of those next," he said, and went back to the room where he worked.

Back in the waiting room area, the Swedish receptionist spluttered about taking turns and queues, and Bedwin just said calmly that what Mr. Potter wanted, Mr. Potter got.

After a brief pause, one of the wizards who'd been rash enough to duel with Helmer Roos appeared in front of him. Harry tried the normal levels of magic first, but was very pleased when they didn't work. He was trembling so much now that he waved his wand at a chair, which came forward for him. It would be no good falling over in the middle of it.

But he thoughtfully asked Jebedee if he wanted to leave the room. For some reason, Jebedee seemed to feel the magic more acutely than most. So did Bedwin, although Zack and Anna were always fine.

"I'll stay this time," said Jebedee calmly, and Harry proceeded to warn the client, and the usual small group of observers. And then he sat, even leaning back his head, holding his wand in one hand, across his knee.

The impressive looking fighting wizard in front of him looked dubiously at the pale and trembling figure in the chair, but soon braced himself as he started to feel a tingling in the air.

The magic built up and up, Harry feeling a satisfaction as he controlled the magic, stayed aware of the patient, and his likely panic, and tried to keep it away a little from Therese, who was nevertheless holding her head.

The spell broke, the magic died from the air, and everyone but Harry was relieved. It felt good to do that, like exercising rarely used muscles.

Harry's trembling had ceased, and when he looked at Therese's monitor, he saw that the risk of a fit, while very much present, had at least receded. He felt a lot better, too, and was able to do a few more easy ones before a break was called.

Just outside their work area was a cobbled square, through which he had to walk to go into a muggle shopping centre. He hated the square. With his poor balance, and a cane that slid on the stones, it was murder to cross. But he was going to walk a little before he resumed work, and if they had to wait for him, it was just too bad. He wanted to buy a special present for Anna, and there was a jeweller close.

He was halfway across those horrible cobbles when he suddenly, irritably, turned on Eli and Bedwin, who were patiently slowing their steps to his. "Leave me alone," he said. "I'm sick of having people on top of me all the time!"

They looked at his crossness, thought it entirely understandable, and joined some Swedish colleagues who were watching from a greater distance. Parked close by in the muggle city was an ambulance, ready to whisk Harry Potter to wizard hospital, if needed. It was easier than extracting him from a muggle hospital. The Swedish knew that a collapse was imminent, although nobody had mentioned to Harry just how prepared they were.

A tall, blonde youth apparated a few yards in front of him. The aurors jumped to the alert, and several were already approaching, wands out. But suddenly there was a red ring traced in the cobbles, surrounding the pair. And when they tried to push forward, they could not.

The youth stared at Harry and asked, "Are you Harry Potter?"

Harry nodded, and the youth straightened further with an air of arrogance. "My name is Helmer Roos, and I challenge you to a duel!"

"All right," said Harry briefly.

The air of arrogance was lost from the youth, and he said that he'd heard that Potter didn't duel, that he had said that it was 'A stupid pastime for stupid boys."

"That's right," said Harry, now smiling, "But I thought I'd make an exception in your case - you've caused too much misery for too many people."

The boy drew himself up again with an air of pride. He may have been only sixteen or thereabouts, but he was taller than Harry.

Harry was scratching his head, "Now, what curse would you like? Sabre teeth? Horns? Ever-growing hair? Boils? - And decide carefully!" He suddenly wore his own air of taunting arrogance: "Because I can break _your_ spells - and scarcely bother raising a wand, ... but _nobody_ can break mine!"

The aurors watched in bewilderment. They'd seen Harry Potter in a lot of moods, but they had never heard him boast of his power before. But then they had to step back, as the red ring around the pair expanded. And they still could not force their way through. Word was spreading, and more and more spectators gathered.

Anthony hurled himself at the invisible barrier. "Don't hurt yourself, Anthony," said Harry, not looking at him, "I don't want interference." He was now wearing the fierce grin familiar to those who had seen him fight with fists.

Helmer whirled, took ten swift steps back, and turned to face Harry again, his wand drawn and raised. Harry stood, keeping his balance with the aid of a cane.

He still smiled, tauntingly. "Come on, then, see what you can do."

A spell came hurling at him, he batted it aside with his right hand, casually.

"Again?" he suggested. The boy was furious, and another spell came speeding, and another. Harry didn't move from his position, just batting the spells aside as they came speeding toward him.

But this was not enough fun for Harry, and suddenly, several small dragons appeared, darting around the inside of the invisible barrier, breathing roaring fire, and then, for some strange reason, a portion of dead tree appeared standing close to the boy, with a bird unknown to the Swedes, that put its head back and laughed, the weird laughter echoing around the invisible chamber in which they fought.

The boy, distracted and nervous, looked around, but was beginning to be more and more angry. The spells were hurled viciously.

Most of the waiting patients, several passers by, and nearly all the aurors watched on the outside, able to hear everything that was said, in spite of the barrier through which they could not pass, and in spite of the roars of small dragons' breath, and the loud laughter of a kookaburra. Therese watched anxiously, as did Anna. What was going to be the end of this?

"Why are you messing around, Helmer?" asked the taunting voice. "Why don't you try for the kill? _Avada Kedavra,_ you know the words, sent with a thought of hatred."

Jebedee called, _"No,_ Harry," he thought that Harry was going to allow himself to be killed.

The boy had started at the voice, but Harry just sent a thought, and now he and Helmer could no longer hear what the others said, although they could still be heard.

"You should not tempt fate," said Helmer, in a voice now low and deadly. "I am the greatest fighter in the world!"

But Harry laughed at him, "Only when I'm dead, Helmer! - You have no _idea_ what I can do."

Harry wasn't sure how much he could do himself, he had only ever extended his magic in order to break certain spells.

Suddenly there was another kookaburra, and the raucous duo made it difficult for the onlookers to hear. And there were colours whipping around, too, it seemed for no particular reason, the colours that Harry favoured, livid, clashing, without restraint. "Avada Kedavra?" Harry suggested again, and Harry didn't know himself whether he would bat it aside or not.

But the blonde youth said, "I don't want to kill you - father."

The dragons, the birds, their trees, and the colours vanished. Only the barrier remained, although tested again by Anthony and one of the Swedes.

Harry asked, quietly, "What did you say?"

Helmer said again, "Father."

Harry was silent, and Helmer suddenly threw another spell. Harry carelessly batted it aside and said, "Don't," as if it was some minor annoyance. "Who's your mother?"

But Helmer said bitterly, "Oh, you wouldn't remember her - just one of your endless series of women!"

Anna, on the outside, flushed. Was that what she was, too? But Harry asked again. "Who's your mother?"

And this time the boy answered, "Inge."

"Inge Hagstedt?" Harry asked.

"Do you remember her?"

"Of course I do. I remember every one of the women who spend time with me - and loved them all, too!" Anna felt better.

Helmer's wand was at his side now, and he just looked at Harry in silence. He was apparently perfectly calm, but the fingers of his left hand were drumming ceaselessly against his side, betraying his tension.

Harry was studying him more closely. His own son? But he finally, reluctantly, said, "I have to go back to work - but have lunch with me if you want. I've actually been meaning to talk to you for a while."

Helmer pocketed his wand, nodded curtly, and turned to walk away, only waving a hand as Harry called a time after him.

Harry grinned as Helmer refused to break stride as he approached the barrier that surrounded them. Harry dropped it just in time. One of the aurors looked like he might be going to stop Helmer, but Harry said, "Let him alone," and grinning wryly, "Just a little family dispute!"

He turned to go back, again having trouble negotiating those horrible cobbles. Only Anthony approached, most of the onlookers backing away in awe, as he slid and stumbled on the stones. Anthony grabbed his arm as he started to fall, and Harry thanked him. "I'll lay a smooth footpath for myself tomorrow," he said, "I should have done it Monday, pretty stupid leaving it this long," and he finally stepped off the cobbled area with relief. "I _hate_ cobbles!"

"Is he really your son?" asked Eli.

"I guess so - I certainly knew his mother at about the right time."

Anthony was looking at Harry. No-one had ever seen a duel quite like that one. "What were those birds?"

Harry grinned. He had enjoyed that, "Australian kookaburras. They love to laugh at people, and wizard duelling is fairly stupid, really."

Therese was checking the monitor again, as he entered, picking up a cake from leftover morning tea as he did. Quite casually, he strolled over. "Not quite as bad," he said, and then consulted the clock. "I'm late, best get on with it."

He paid so little attention to the next several patients, that they wondered how he could still cure them. But standard cures were effortless for Harry. The second man that looked like he might need strong magic came in. And he was the first that was brave enough to actually speak with him. "Good to see Helmer Roos beaten!"

Harry grinned, "I think it's the first relatively serious duel I've ever been in." He waved his wand casually at the man, with no result. Jebedee was looking at the patient askance. He knew what was going to be needed here.

"Jebedee," Harry said, turning to him. "If I can persuade him, could I have Helmer with me this afternoon? I'd like to teach him to break spells, especially his own."

Jebedee raised an eyebrow. That would be a turnaround, but he didn't think that even Harry's magic would work that miracle! "I'll have to speak to the Swedes, and each patient would have to give permission, too - but I'll go straight away and see what can be done," said Jebedee, glad of the excuse to get out of the room.

"What about you, Sven? Would you he willing to wait until this afternoon and let Helmer have a go?" Sven gently touched a particularly painful spot on his cheek, but agreed.

Miracle or not, Harry returned with Helmer after lunch, and courteously introduced him to the members of the team whom he had not yet met, and explained that Helmer was going to try and break spells.

Three aurors went into the room with him after lunch. Even though Harry seemed entirely comfortable with this young and powerful wizard, they didn't trust him one bit. So Anna, Jebedee, and Zack watched, quietly, inconspicuous, but alert, against the wall of the large room.

Harry rearranged some of his patients, and none of them said no to him when he asked if he could try and get a student to undo the spells. Any that had not seen the duel in the morning, had heard of it. Word had quickly spread, and rumours were flying of Helmer's parentage.

The first three patients that Helmer tried were the spells he had inflicted himself, duelling. It was with the reluctant consent of the patients, but Harry pointed out that otherwise it was only himself that could break the spells, and that he would not be around forever.

As Helmer tried to undo his spells, Harry paced the floor, his cane preventing falls, even when a fit of shaking took him again, as he explained to Helmer what was needed. It seemed that Helmer had a fair bit of power, but couldn't seem to _feel_ the spell, as Harry told him he should. But finally, he broke the spell of the first patient, and an identical broad grin of satisfaction spread across the faces of both Helmer and Harry. The next two were progressively easier.

Therese watched the monitor, but, on Harry's quiet request previously, not making it obvious what she was doing to anyone else, particularly not to Helmer.

"The next one," Harry told Helmer, "Is a particularly wicked spell, and I don't think you'll be able to undo it, even though it's your own spell. But have a try before I do - sometimes it's a lot easier to undo your own spell than someone else's."

Helmer tried, as Harry watched, but Harry's feet itched to move, and he was soon pacing again.

Therese watched the monitor. She was depending on this patient to stabilise Harry again, who had apparently forgotten that he was not in perfect health in his interest in his student. Jebedee watched Harry, too, and noted that he couldn't seem to stay still. He had seen Harry like this a lot more than Therese had, and just hoped that Therese knew what she was doing, allowing him to continue.

Helmer persevered, but Harry finally called a halt and said he'd do it himself, and suggested that Therese might prefer to wait outside. Without comment, Jebedee followed her.

Inside the room, Harry started his usual warning about the frightening feeling of strong magic, but Sven said briefly, "I've heard."

Harry cast an eye at Helmer, but didn't warn him. Now he'd see what this son of his was made of! But when Harry raised the level of magic, and then more and more, Helmer stood sturdily, appearing entirely unmoved, even when Harry mischievously played a little lightning around the room, to the annoyance of Anna and Zack. They knew it was quite unnecessary.

The magic died, Sven caressed his smooth cheek, and, with dignity, thanked the great wizard, who now slumped in his chair. He was no longer trembling, but was beginning to be very tired.

Outside, Jebedee and Therese had watched the monitor in fascination, as energy levels on the monitor stopped their wild spiking, levelled out, and started a gentle decline, as Harry threw his effort into breaking the spell.

Jebedee pointed to something. "That's the LV, you said, or 'life vigour' roughly defined. Why do the spikes only go down on that, and not up?"

Therese had never thought about it. "I don't know."

Jebedee added thoughtfully, "It's as if it can't go above 105."

Therese narrowed her eyes, "That bastard!" and she said to Jebedee, "Don't say anything to Harry, but I'm going to check something this evening, or as soon as I have a chance."

Therese called a halt for a while, but there were a lot of patients to go with the additional eighteen that had been moved forward from Friday. There were two that had not been able to be contacted, although Clarke kept trying most of the day. One was a little girl.

To Harry's disappointment, there were hardly any of the afternoon's patients that Helmer was able to help, and it slowed them down enormously, until Jebedee intervened, saying, "Just finish them, Harry, it'll be dark soon."

So Harry fixed the last half dozen patients, quickly, and rose wearily, Zack offering an arm, and Harry not too proud to take it. He'd started trembling again, an hour before, and Therese was more and more worried. Even with the magic that he'd used today, it seemed that he was unable to keep his condition stable.

Helmer was awkward. Harry shook his hand. "No more duelling, all right? For a powerful wizard like yourself, it's just not a fair fight!"

Helmer felt a little better. He'd been fairly thoroughly humbled that day, but Harry Potter still referred to him as a powerful wizard.

It was a short walk back to the hotel, and Harry was relieved to see that someone had laid a temporary footpath across those awful cobbles. He was so tired, and he still shook. He was thinking that he should make himself die, the next fit would be very soon now. But even that seemed an awful effort, and he lay on his bed, ignoring Therese as she fussed over him, taking readings with various monitors and devices, watched by Jebedee. She was comparing her readings on the monitor that Harry had given her with the readings on others. It was even rather comforting. He went to sleep.

Therese came back an hour later, with a modified Nisco, and finally had a true LV reading. 287, with some gentle spiking, up and down. Harry barely stirred as she laid the sensor on his arm, only murmuring "Inge" with a smile on his face.

She checked her own monitor again. She had now verified that the fit indicator and the energy levels indicator were accurate, it appeared that only the LV was wrong, and she thought that was probably accurate in the lower levels.

***chapter end***


	23. Chapter 23

_Notes:__Harry's children__: Adam Bourne, stepson, Margaret, Victoria and James, children of Ginny, and Beth, daughter of Luna. Harry's staff include____Margaret Brown, secretary. John, who has nursing experience, Chrissy, Inez, and Will, personal helper. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 23:_

Harry was wide awake an hour later, felt fine, except for being very hungry. He was frightened of the monitor, though, and didn't look at it. He showered quickly, finding Anthony waiting outside his room.

Anthony straightened, "How are you?"

"Hungry. Have I missed dinner?"

Anthony said, "They'll probably find you something," and they headed toward the small dining room that they had used all week.

Therese was sitting at a small table in the corner, in serious discussion with Jebedee, still with that blessed book/monitor in front of her. She looked up surprised when she saw Harry, who was laughing with Anthony over something. Anthony had been asking about Inge, and Harry could remember her in detail, but those memories that came back to him most clearly were not the ones that he shared with Anthony.

With a sidelong, half frightened glance at Therese and Jebedee, Harry approached the woman who always looked after their meals. Anthony had already eaten, but Harry said, "Magritte, I know I'm late, but I'm very hungry. Any leftovers?"

Middle-aged Magritte looked at him with doting fondness, in spite of their short acquaintance, and offered him a choice. He avoided Jebedee and Therese, but joined Clarke, Zack and Eli, who had sat long after the meal was finished, and were now talking about strange, laughing birds. A beer was suddenly placed in front of him, and Harry looked up, thanking Anthony, who now joined them.

"So what can Helmer do, really?" asked Anthony.

"A bit of a disappointment," said Harry. "I hoped he'd be able to do everything I can, or nearly. But all he can do is a few particularly easy ones, and his own spells, and not even all his own. At least he might give duelling a bit of a miss from now on. I think I managed to convince him of that." And he addressed himself to the meal that was placed in front of him with a smile of thanks at Magritte.

"Where's Anna?" he asked.

Clarke said, "She went home, I think Jebedee said something about a family emergency," and Harry looked across at Jebedee, who, even now, had his eye on him. He gave a sudden shiver, but he really did feel fine, and didn't think that Therese should be looking at him like that.

But Anna was gone. He was going to miss Anna, and he hadn't bought her the necklace he was planning. And while he thought about it, before it was too late, he conjured a piece of paper, and not using his own awkward and only half legible handwriting, he made clear writing appear magically, an order for Margaret Brown, in case he died. A pen appeared in his hand, he no longer bothered to pretend to use a wand when he conjured, and he signed a messy signature at the foot of the page. He still had a supply of jewellery and items in boxes that had been sent home as he and Luna travelled. He hoped that Margaret would find the necklace he had in mind.

He folded the paper and put it in his pocket, but couldn't resume eating straight away, as another fit of shaking took him. But it passed quite quickly, and he finished his meal.

He would have liked to see Inge again, too - he supposed it was too late for that. But while he thought of it, he asked Clarke if they had managed to finish Friday's patients. Clarke told him there were two left, and Finland were contacting them about some patients of theirs, too, three pumpkin-heads. Harry pushed away his plate and said crossly, "I can't keep on forever, what are they going to do when I die?"

Clarke asked what they should do about the pumpkin-heads and Harry said he supposed they should agree but to warn them that life was uncertain, with another sidelong glance at Therese. Jebedee was gone, though. Harry didn't know why that should make him feel better.

He was suddenly presented with a generous serving of a favourite dessert, and again thought that he should live life as long as he could. And he relaxed again, and laughed with Clarke about the perils of being a henpecked husband. "She henpecks me, too," said Harry, "And I don't have the compensations that you enjoy!" He had become a lot closer to Clarke in the last year, as they had travelled together.

Therese placed a glass of potion in front of him, which he avoided looking at, but drank anyway, making a face, and following it up with another beer, which tasted a lot better.

Jebedee came to him, greeted with that half frightened look that Harry had given him before. But he just said that Helmer and his mother were wanting to talk to him, and that they were waiting at the bar. Harry rose with an air of anticipation, being steadied by Jebedee, and Jebedee wondered again whether he was beginning to lose his coordination.

Inge was at the bar, buying drinks for herself and for Helmer, but Harry saw her instantly, and joined her there. "Inge!" he said.

He was watched suspiciously by Helmer, who sat alone at a table. It seemed they had both forgotten they had a son, Helmer thought resentfully ten minutes later, as they still talked, totally involved in each other. The moment that Harry discovered that Inge had been widowed three years before, there was another ingredient added.

He was watched, of course, Anthony, Zack and Jebedee were there, while Therese wondered what on earth she could do. How was the fit to be prevented when nothing that Harry did seemed to push it away? The potion hadn't made the slightest difference. There were no signs of a nervous attack, it seemed that he was going to fit anyway. Jebedee had suggested that she just left Harry to enjoy himself as long as he could. And she'd noticed that Harry was avoiding both herself and Jebedee.

Anthony, not privy to Therese's information, was watching with amusement. Anna scarcely gone, and Harry was going to be back in bed with Inge.

But Harry suddenly said, slurring his words, "Sorry, I'm a bit sick, I think," and, depending heavily on his cane, he left the room, swiftly joined by Therese, who'd been waiting for this, and had out her wand.

"I left it too late, I think," said Harry, slowly, painfully, to Therese, swaying in front of her for a second before the fit started. Therese thought that she, too, had left it too late. But according to the indicator, the fit had been hovering all day, and Harry had cured a lot of people that day, besides having a spectacular duel with a youth who had turned out to be his son. And that surprising LV, whatever it meant, had made her hesitant. He wasn't like everybody else.

Both Helmer and Inge had started to follow him, but their view was interrupted by a solid block of large aurors there in front of them, and Bedwin smoothly took Inge's arm, and led her back into the bar area, reluctantly followed by her son. "Just a bit sick, maybe too much to drink. We'll look after him." No-one but his own people should see Harry in the undignified convulsions of a major epileptic fit.

Jebedee, too, thought they'd made a mistake. But should they have stunned him when he seemed to be feeling perfectly well? He may not have consented, and maybe it wouldn't have done any good in any case. This was not the same as the fits that came after an uncontrolled nervous attack.

Harry came around almost immediately this time, after the jerking ceased. But he didn't seem to be able to be able to get up, and he couldn't see properly. He was in a mess, of course, and he asked Therese not to try and get Clarke to do anything for him, that Clarke hated stuff like this.

Clarke, who'd been ready to help pick him up, and place him on the conjured stretcher, looked away, grim-faced. Harry closed his eyes again, and it was Clarke after all, who carefully lifted him, took him to his room, and helped Therese clean him up. Like he'd said before, it was different when it was the boss.

Harry was in his own room when he opened his eyes again a while later, but he was still disoriented, and his eyes passed over Therese, to someone else who was close. He told Luna that he would join her very soon, that he was just a bit dizzy now, and had forgotten how to do it.

Therese met Jebedee's eyes, who stood a little back. Jebedee was quite sure that he knew what Harry had been talking about. He'd said a few days ago that he could die suddenly.

But a couple of hours later, Harry woke again. Therese and Clarke were with him, talking quietly in a corner of the room.

Harry stretched his arms and fingers, testing. Therese and Clarke, their attention caught, watched, as he sat up, seeming without difficulty, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was thinking he didn't seem too bad, as he tested his own body for renewed disability. His cane was propped against the wall, and he held out his left hand, and it came to him, and then, carefully, he stood. He was shaky, but he walked experimentally around the room.

"Did someone stun me?" he finally asked Therese.

"No, you fitted, I was too slow."

"So was I," he admitted. "I wasn't going to let it happen again. But I don't seem too bad." Still carefully, a little dizzily, he took up his glasses, sat himself in his chair, and extended a hand for the red book/monitor, which flew to him. The fit indicator was low again, but the possibility remained, just pushed back a bit.

"Show me your monitor, Harry," said Therese, "I know about the odd LV reading."

Without comment, Harry touched the monitor, and the bits of bible vanished. He explained the extra information that his monitor gave, and even glanced at her own, and the LV reading no longer read 105.

"I still prefer people not to know, though," he added to Therese, and he leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes. Maybe by tomorrow, he'd be all right again for a while. He had to talk to Inge. He owed her sixteen years of child maintenance. Somehow that had never been mentioned the previous night. In fact, the existence of Helmer had scarcely been touched upon.

He opened his eyes again suddenly. "Did they see it, Inge and Helmer?"

Clarke smiled, "Only if they could see through Zack, Eli, Jebedee and Bedwin!"

Harry said, "I'm a lot better looked after than I deserve."

Therese picked out one of her smallest devices, which she held to various parts of his head. He stayed still. Hermione had done this several times. "There doesn't seem to be any further damage of significance," she finally concluded, and she left the room to report to Jebedee.

After a while, Harry got up, had his shower, and went to bed. There was no reason that he couldn't complete the week's work the following day.

The following day, Clarke walked close to him as he went to do his job. He was no longer walking as well as he had been, and the memory of that fist fight he'd been in just the previous week, seemed ludicrous now.

Just two patients left over, and three pumpkin-heads from Finland, except now there were two more from Austria as well, and a child from Germany.

A mother and a five year old child crossed the square behind them, as Clarke walked close beside Harry, taking his arm now and then, as he staggered in spite of his cane. Therese and most of the aurors were ahead of them, the Swedes spaced around the square, which still had that convenient smooth footpath laid across it. Harry just wanted to get the work done and go home now.

Therese was organised, waiting for him, and he noticed his chair was forward, not against the wall as it usually was. He took his seat, and nodded to the Swede, who brought in a mother and child he thought he had seen outside.

The little girl solemnly regarded Harry, sitting in a chair, and trembling again. "Are you going to fix me?" she asked.

"I expect so," said Harry, "I can fix most people."

The little girl reminded him of Beth, except that her skin was covered in warts. But this one was not straightforward. When the initial attempts at breaking the spell failed, he started to tell her about the scary feeling of strong magic, but that her Mum would hold her hand.

But the Mum was trembling almost as badly as Harry, and the child said calmly that she didn't think that her Mum was very brave, and said, "I can sit on your knee, and then you would be able to hold my hand."

Harry said, "So you could," and the child climbed onto his knee.

He stroked her hair, she was so like Beth, and seemed to have some of the calm understanding of Beth.

"Are you ready?" he asked, and was relieved when he did not have to hold the effort of magic for long before the warts vanished from the child's face and body.

"That feel better?" he asked.

She smiled, nodding her head vigorously up and down, but he seemed in no hurry to put her down.

As he had done, she put up a hand and stroked his hair. "Why are you shaking all the time?" and he admitted, "I'm just a bit sick."

"Why don't you fix yourself? You fix everybody else."

He explained, "This is different. It's not a spell."

"Have you tried hard?"

He smiled wryly, "Oh, yes, I've tried very hard."

She still looked into his face. "Maybe you should try a different way."

He looked at nothing for a moment, and then repeated her words, "Maybe I should try a different way." But then he looked at her, and suggested that she go find her mum, as she was probably anxious. She slipped from his knee, and left without a backward glance.

The next patient was easy, perfectly standard spell, and he would not even have remembered what it was five minutes after he'd fixed the problem. The little girl's words still ran through his head. Maybe he _should _try a different way. He'd have to think about it - if he was given the time to think.

The first of the pumpkin-heads came in next. He was alive and it was recent. He thought for a few minutes. He had better telepathic skills now, and it was just too risky doing these the way he'd always done them. He'd paid a very high price for that last one in Turkey. This time, he conjured a see-through barrier, that stretched across the room in front of him, like the one that had surrounded the duel, but more elastic. The Swedes were efficient, and three ambulance teams waited, each with their specialised mediwizard.

Harry took a lot longer than usual to break the spell, and it took more effort, doing it from a distance. He persevered. It could just as easily have been Bedwin or Tom who suffered so badly that last time, and he didn't feel that he had the right to risk it happen to anyone else. He still couldn't stand the thought of tying the patients though, the barrier just had to work.

He failed to keep the pumpkin-head calm, but the barrier did its job, as the man fought to get at his rescuer, before gradually becoming calm of his own volition, helped by a calming spell that Harry wove in the air. The other two were almost identical.

He didn't seem to have any endurance today, and he was already tired. The threat of a fit was climbing again, according to Therese's monitor, but Harry didn't look at it. _Maybe you should try a different way, _she had said. Harry was thinking about it - a different approach.

The two Austrians were straightforward. But then there was a child of about eight, struggling and screaming in the arms of his parents.

"This is Mr. Potter, honey. He's going to fix you up!" and the child wrenched himself from the arms of his parents, and kicked Harry hard on the leg, before clawing at his glasses.

He blocked the attack with shaking arms, Jebedee striding forward quickly and lifting the boy easily away. Somewhere in the confusion, the child's thorns vanished, but Harry wondered how the boy would get along in life, with such a thorny personality. It had been an appropriate curse, that one. The parents didn't use that babysitter again.

All done, and he leaned back in his chair, and allowed Therese to fuss over him as much as she wanted. _Maybe you should try a different way._

Helmer was outside, waiting for him, but Harry just said, "If I can, I'll come and see you. Tell Inge I'll keep in touch," though he expected that it would be Margaret Brown who would have to be in touch.

They had a wheelchair waiting for him, and Harry stared at it. He had triumphantly left behind his wheelchair more than six months before. But he was exhausted, even though it had been such a short list, and Therese was thinking that he was going to fit again, he could feel her. _Maybe you should try a different way._ The English aurors surrounded him, and Clarke pushed the chair, smoothly crossing the cobbled square where Helmer had tried to punish Harry for not being his mother's husband.

Helmer started after him; he wasn't finished. Harry Potter couldn't just _leave!_ But large aurors blocked him, and he lost sight of Harry, solidly surrounded by his friends and protectors. Helmer stopped, looking after him, and suddenly called, "I won't duel any more!"

There was no acknowledgment.

They managed to get Harry home before he fitted again, and then it was just a bit harder again to walk. If he was going to try a different way, it had better be soon. Or just get on with it, and end it.

**x**

Helmer returned to Durmstrang, finding himself the object of a great deal of curiosity. The word that he was the son of Harry Potter had spread extremely quickly. The headmaster even suggested that he be put in a School House - only pure-bloods, and, on rare occasions, half-bloods, were allocated to Houses at Durmstrang.

Helmer, in his prickly pride, refused. They had thought he was not good enough to be fully accepted before - he would finish his last years of school as he had begun, as a member of the despised group of muggle-borns and half-bloods.

He suddenly wondered if now that he was known as the son of the great wizard, Harry Potter, he would he be allowed to train as an auror. The profession was closed to muggle borns. But_ he_ was the son of Harry Potter!

**x**

Harry was in his own home again, and very well cared for. Jebedee was calling every day again, but for the next five days, he was told that Harry was unavailable to visitors. Once he saw Hermione, but she gave him little information.

On the sixth day, he met Harry's stepson, Adam, and his secretary, Margaret, as he walked toward the house. It seemed that they were just back from an errand that they'd done for Harry in Sweden. But Kevin still told him that Harry was unavailable. He asked if they needed help when he swam, but Kevin said that he didn't think that Harry swam any more.

With Trevor's full approval, Jebedee persevered, and was finally rewarded when, to his astonishment, he arrived to see a rider galloping flat out on a spotted pony, followed closely by the dog, Jimbo, and by a black colt bucking and playing loose behind him. He watched, mouth open, as the pony slowed, and then it, too, started prancing and curvetting, but the play was gentle, and a rear was abruptly cut short as the figure on his back swayed precariously.

Harry greeted him with pleasure, but didn't dismount, instead walking the horse to the house, where Will waited and watched. And when he dismounted, he held tightly onto the mane of the horse until Will took his arm, steadying him.

He had done what he could, preparing himself, but he had tried to explain to Hermione, and made no attempt to explain to Jebedee. He had discovered he couldn't do it yet, but he had prepared himself as best he could. But now this was a time of waiting, and he had faith in Hermione - she had promised. If it didn't work, she would not allow him to live a vegetable. For now, he was making the most of what he had left.

Casually, as if he hadn't kept it strictly secret for the past thirty-five years, he mentioned to Jebedee that he could pass on to his particular friends among the aurors that they could visit if they wanted, until he said not to come. Therese, too. When Jebedee queried secrecy, he only said that the coordinates should not be written down, and that nobody else should be told.

Harry was living, as much as he could, before the next battle commenced. As often as not, when the aurors or Therese and Clarke visited, there would already be a rowdy party atmosphere, especially on the occasions that Fred and George Weasley were there. Harry's family were frequent visitors, and a few times Jebedee found the place over-run with mostly redheaded Abercrombies, as Harry made dragons frolic for the amusement of his grandchildren. He rode, as often as he could, risking falls for the pleasure of being able to go fast without too much effort.

Except for staying on his property, and always having someone with him, Harry had abandoned caution. He never opened his monitor. There were no nervous attacks, no nightmares even, but there were still fits, and each one seemed to take its toll. For the first time in his adult life, there were no women. He would not risk having a fit while with a woman. He didn't like living without sex, but discovered that, after all, it was possible.

His carers gave him his way, only relieved that he kept within the bounds of the property. Harry was becoming more and more aware of the thoughts and feelings of those around him, both human and animal. In the middle of the night, early in June, he called Will to help him out to the stables, and for hours, he stroked Kinship, as she laboured to bring a new foal into the world. The foal was dead and he comforted the mare afterward, in her distress.

Suddenly Beth found him listening to her, too, when she tried to contact him in her mind. He had put up barriers these last years, mostly to avoid hearing others think and feel, but it had worked the other way, too. Beth had not known that he was again in trouble. But now he opened his mind and started listening to the world. He had started wondering if his problems were partly due to this telepathic talent, which he had stifled. This is what Beth had long thought, but Harry had refused to listen when she had suggested it.

The period of waiting extended longer than Harry had expected, and for a few weeks, he resumed weekly spell-breaking sessions at Hermione's office, although now it was usually Ben who presided.

Midway through June, the auror observing reported that he was back in a wheelchair, and then there was a message relayed - no more visitors. Only Jebedee ignored the stricture, and continued visiting daily. Harry didn't object, although occasionally Jebedee would be firmly advised that he was unavailable.

The spell-breaking sessions ceased.

School holidays arrived, and Beth was home. It appeared to be Beth who decreed whether Harry could have visitors, and it had been Beth who put a stop to the spell-breaking stints. Margaret and Victoria resented her absolute rule at first, but she had the loyalty of Harry's employees, and her sisters began seeing something in Beth that they had missed before.

Inge and Helmer appeared in England, but no-one would tell them where they could find Harry Potter, and Harry was not told that they wanted to visit. Harry's daughters, Margaret and Victoria, and their husbands, made sure to meet them, interested in this other son of Harry's. And while Helmer held his head high in front of these unknown half-sisters, Inge was thoroughly daunted by them.

Inge and Helmer knew by now that Harry was very seriously ill, and not expected to survive, but Helmer swallowed his pride, and asked for what he wanted. Vicky took it in hand, went to Harry, and he made a shaky, illegible signature to a declaration of paternity, witnessed however, by the clear signatures of highly respected English witches and wizards. No-one would doubt this document, and armed with this, Helmer expected that, as long as he continued to do well in his schoolwork, he would be admitted to auror training, something that he had always assumed to be impossible.

Jebedee still visited daily, and Harry was nearly always available to him. His degree of incapacity was very great again, but he didn't seem unhappy. One day, as they talked, Jebedee found Harry fidgeting, and talking excitedly. There was no monitor in sight, and as Jebedee, escorted by Beth, left, he suggested that she should surely be calling Hermione. Beth said calmly that Hermione would be called, but that maybe Jebedee should not come again for a while.

For the next two weeks, Jebedee was not allowed to see Harry. Then, two days running, Harry was again available for a few minutes, to talk to him. He was looking very thin, and jumped violently when a cat leapt onto his knee, although gently, if shakily, stroking it afterward. Then again, more weeks went by, and he was denied access, although Beth told him that she thought that Harry was going to get better, and even that she didn't think his fits would return.

The day before Beth was due to go back to school, Jebedee was smilingly pointed to the horse paddock, where Harry sat in his wheelchair, Will by his side. He'd been talking to his horses, and there was the half-tail cat perched precariously on his shoulder, sinking its claws in now and then when they moved.

Harry looked pale still, and very tired, but he looked pleased with himself, and when Beth gave Jebedee his cue to leave, Harry said to him, "I think I might have beaten it - I might be going to come good!"

Jebedee reached and took the hand that lay almost helpless in Harry's lap, and shook it hard. "I hope so," he said, "I hope so."

**x**

The fits did not return, but it was to be many months before Harry could again get around reliably with a cane, although he resumed doing his spell-breaking stints at Hermione and Ben's rooms long before that. He was no longer so ashamed of being so nearly helpless, and thought it quite amazing that he had lived through nearly four months of celibacy.

He was not the same person as he had been, although it was not obvious to others. He now had a very great understanding of his own mind, and of its capabilities. If he chose, he could hear and understand the thoughts and feelings of people he knew even though they might be hundreds of miles away. He still did not believe it was ethical, however, and only did it for a good reason.

He could no longer apparate to coordinates, but he could often conceal it by apparating to a person whom he knew and could feel. And he had worked at trying to heal the damage that had been done to his brain by repeated fits. His slow, but consistent improvement was far in excess of what Ben and Hermione had thought possible.

Harry thought he knew why the nervous attacks had started, more than just a rising LV, and he thought that he knew why the fits had come back, even when he was able to control the nervous attacks. He did not believe he would have fits for the same reason ever again. But only Beth would ever come close to understanding what he had done.

**x**

In December, he resumed doing overseas trips, on alternate weeks, Clarke working again as the helper he could not manage without.

Euan Abercrombie, now headmaster at Hogwarts, asked him if he would be interested in teaching again, and he was very much interested, he said maybe next year, but only part-time.

Also, in December, he spoke in front of the Wizemgamot, gathered to discuss changes in the law. There was a proposal to outlaw wizard duelling, although there were provisions retained that allowed people to defend themselves. Harry was still in a wheelchair, still often trembled, and could not feed himself without mess. They listened to him in dead silence and with utmost respect.

The week after, moves commenced to invite him to again become a member of the Wizemgamot, as he had been before he was found guilty of the unlawful killings of two wizards. The anti-duelling laws were not passed. The tradition was too long-standing.

Early in the New Year, he made a point of seeing Inge and Helmer. There were two younger children of Inge, muggles of course, who stared with fascination at the man in a wheelchair, who was supposed to be the most powerful wizard in the world.

Helmer was a more confident, less prickly youth these days. No-one called him muggle-born, and Helmer looked forward to a career as an auror, as soon as he finished his final year at Durmstrang. Harry rather liked him.

***chapter end***


	24. Chapter 24

_Notes:__ Harry's staff include____Margaret Brown, secretary. Bill, manager, Chris and Peter Barnes, Chrissy, Inez, Will, personal helper. _

_Disclaimer:__ Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling._

_Chapter 24, Final Chapter:_

In March, Beth turned sixteen. There happened to be another girl in the dormitory with the same birthday, and the celebrations about that birthday, and the dramatic comparison to that of her own, brought her loneliness, suddenly, acutely, to mind.

When Harry contacted her before lessons, he felt her upset, and suggested perfectly calmly, that she give up school if she wanted. There was not the slightest need to stay where she was unhappy. Beth stayed in the common room thinking, as all the other students went off to lessons. No-one asked her why she wasn't going, too. It was only the Potter girl, and no-one spoke to the Potter girl.

It was a wet and blustery day outside, but after a while, Beth rose, put on her cape, and walked into the Forbidden Forest to talk to the centaurs one last time. There were others she knew there, too.

One of her room-mates entered the dormitory at lunch time, to find her almost fully packed. The dark girl watched, silently, as Beth finished packing her trunk, touched her wand to it so that it vanished, and turned toward the door. Belatedly, the dark girl said good-bye. It was the first word that anyone had spoken to Beth in weeks.

She looked back and nodded, no expression on her face. This was the girl who would have tormented her endlessly if Beth had not made her frightened.

The gates of Hogwarts were not heavily guarded, and Beth walked out unchallenged, and apparated home. Harry was waiting for her, giving her a warm hug. They were both lonely people. Beth had no friends, and no-one to love except for her father. Harry was surrounded by people who cared very deeply for him, but he, too, had no-one to love.

A month later, Beth and Harry started travelling. Harry still depended on a cane, still had fits of trembling, and sometimes had trouble with buttons. But his body, unclothed, looked as strong and desirable as it had ever done, and the disabilities left were gradually being overcome. Spell-bound people would have to wait. His daughter was looking for something, and Harry went with her. Harry had almost given up hope of finding another wife to love. He had come too far and was no longer a normal man.

Beth had never been normal. But she longed for a mate. She always wore glasses now, and although they almost totally concealed her eyes from the outside, they were touched with magic so that she saw through them as if they were clear.

Three months later, Harry and Beth had visited the wizarding communities of Asia, Africa, and America. In Thailand, there were a lot of people needing spells broken, and Harry found a student in Beth who could help his patients, not with the casual power that he used so easily - Beth didn't have that. Instead Harry found that she could work telepathic cures, without great trouble, and with such a subtle touch that the patients were almost unaware of her intrusion, and even when it was felt, it was not resented

They came home for a little while then, and Harry did a four week stretch of overseas work, as well as catching up with Ben's list. Hermione seldom did any work at the practice now, although she was often called in as a consultant, in several countries.

Then they were off again, touring Australasia, and North and South America, always getting in touch with the wizarding communities. This would be where they might find what they were searching for.

Early in November, Beth slipped into bed with Harry. He gave her a hug, and asked if she had had a nightmare.

Two weeks later, she encouraged him to drink more than usual, and then, while he slept, worked a Confundus Charm. This time, the desperately lonely and sexually deprived girl had what she wanted. Harry Potter, waking as she slipped naked into bed with him, turned to her and made love with her as if he thought it entirely natural and proper. And even in the morning, when she initiated the love play, it was a renewed pleasure and utmost joy.

But afterward, still stroking her body as she slept in relaxed contentment, it slowly dawned on him what he had done. This was his daughter. He had violated a law of nature and a law of man. And yet he loved her. How could he give her up now?

Harry had been lonely since Luna had died. Beth thought that she'd been lonely ever since she was five, and had been stoned by the other children. Harry's eyes filled with tears as he lay, gently stroking the ungraceful body of an exceptional young woman. He couldn't fool himself. From the moment it started, he had known exactly who it was with whom he made love. Her identity and emotion had filled his soul, as his love and pleasure had filled hers.

Harry was consumed with guilt. But when he opened her mind to his daughter, she opened hers to him. They had searched the world. They each needed a mate, and had not been able to find one. What was so wrong in taking consolation in each other? There would be no children, of course. Competent witches do not have accidental children.

Harry and his daughter loved each other, fully, emotionally, sexually, and soon they had a total telepathic communication, which Harry had always previously resisted. Beth was really, truly happy for the first time since she was five. Harry was blissfully happy also, and thrived on the loving companionship of his daughter.

It did him good in other ways. He depended on his cane less and less, and was able to go for long, hard walks again as he used to do, provided only that the ground was reasonably level. Beth had a glow of happiness about her. When she had been small, she had wandered around, contentment in her soul. She had appeared to laugh at nothing. Now again, she spent her days in happiness.

But they did not go back to England and did not even keep in contact. Quite deliberately, they chose to allow their relationship to be ambiguous. Most people thought they were brother and sister, as Harry could still pass for no more than thirty. They always paid for separate rooms, wherever they stayed, but invariably shared a bed. They needed to be able to reach out a hand and feel the other.

But Harry still felt a guilt, and Beth knew that he felt a guilt.

Harry no longer used his funds from home. Potter and Potter paid their way breaking spells, and also building secret wizard areas in small countries where they were previously non-existent. Harry had an enormous knowledge of magic by this time, and he and Beth could work together with total and effortless communication.

His home ran smoothly, Margaret Brown as efficient as ever. Peter Barnes left, and married a young woman from the local area, and Chris started to take on more and more the role of Bill Forrester, the manager, who was getting old. Will was given a job as a farmhand, and felt useful and wanted, but was not filled with the pride he had felt when he was needed by his idol.

They knew that Harry and Beth were still alive, as sometimes packages and boxes would be sent home, stacked tidily in the store-room by the house-elves. There were rumours, but they were ignored. Harry Potter always had enemies.

Moves to have Harry Potter invited to join the Wizemgamot ceased. If it was true, the scandal would be too great.

Two and a half years after it started, Beth and Harry were in the Pacific Islands. There was a very large black man. He wore an enormous gold necklace over a bare chest, and an elaborately decorated skirt. Beth and Jeremiah looked at each other, explored each other's minds from across the room, and they met at the door and left the room together. Beth had not even looked back.

Harry shielded his mind from her. Beth had found what she needed. She could have a family, now, and she should not feel his pain.

Beth came home, kissed him, packed, and left with Jeremiah. Three days later, they were married.

Harry smiled and congratulated them, and made sure that Beth never felt his silent screams of agony.

Beth knew. Sometimes telepathy is not needed, yet she also knew that Harry had always felt a sufficient guilt that he could not be fully happy with her. And also, she wanted a child, and Jeremiah was like her - the first true natural Telepath they had found in years of searching.

Harry hid himself for a month, coming to terms with his heartbreak. Again, he had lost a mate, and yet she was not dead. One day, he thought, he might be able to know her again as just a beloved daughter. And she was happy. He knew that.

**x**

At the beginning of May, Harry Potter appeared in the apparation zone of his own home. No-one knew to expect him. He cloaked himself with invisibility, so that he was not, at first, seen. And then, in another new ability, he extended his senses, feeling where people were.

He found Will peacefully brushing a tall, glossy black gelding. It was Kinship's foal, grown up.

"Hello, Will," he said softly.

Will looked up, slow-witted as always. For a moment, he just stared, tears coming to his eyes.

"Boss!" he finally croaked, and the enormous man, with the battered face and scarred soul, reached out and timidly touched him, as if thinking that he could not be real.

Will was the first to greet Harry, Jimbo was next, the dog racing toward him, barking, and the moment he was close enough, planting his feet on Harry's shoulders. Harry, unbalanced, started to fall, but Will, knowing from instinct and from experience what to do, took him by the arm, until he regained his balance. Harry was vastly improved these days, but Jimbo was a very big dog, and Chrissy never had managed to teach him manners!

It was only a short time before Harry was surrounded. Again, he had lost a mate, but Harry Potter had many friends who cared for him deeply. And none of them had given the slightest credence to those horrible rumours about an unnatural relationship with his daughter. Surely they knew their Harry better than that!

_The End._


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